Something Worth Fighting For
by Lyonene
Summary: Briar Cousland fights for vengeance, for honor, for Ferelden & for love. The Blight is coming and she is one of the last two remaining Grey Wardens in Ferelden, barely an adult yet shouldering the responsibility for the world's survival. F!Cousland/Alistair pairing.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I originally posted this story as a crossover fic w/the wrestling fandom but... The DAO fangirl in me was balking at that. Some minor changes have been made and there are spoilers (in the unlikely event someone hasn't finished the game by now, for shame, lol). My first DAO story and I'm sure very much like many others out there. _

_I own absolutely nothing, Bioware does, them lucky folks. Though if they ever want to loan Alistair or Zev to me, I wouldn't say no!_

**CHAPTER 1**

_There was a Grey Warden in the castle. An actual Grey Warden. One of the prestigious, renowned defenders of mankind against Darkspawn and Blight, actually in the castle!_ These were the thoughts that were running throughout seventeen year old Briar Cousland's mind as she walked the stone courtyard, glancing every now and then towards the heavy oak doors that led to the main hall.

Word had reached her of their guest only an hour ago, while she had been outback in the training yard with several of the Teyrn's soldier's, practicing backstabbing.

Which as her father, her brother and Ser Gilmore had informed her was not proper for a knight.

But Briar wasn't a knight nor a warrior. She wasn't ignorant, she knew with her stature and small size fighting someone head on would never work to her advantage. She was however quick and agile; perfect for a rogue.

Of course, such things were improper for nobility but she usually got her way regardless. Out with her mother's attempts at turning her into a proper lady and in with her father's loving blessing that she could put her attention to things that actually held her interest.

He had assumed it was all a phase, something she would grow out of.

Two years later, his Pup –an affectionate nickname only he could get away with calling her- still hadn't come out of her 'phase' and seeing Briar striding around the castle in her armor no longer raised any eyebrows.

When Teyrn Bryce had realized his Pup had every intention of proving herself just as capable and possibly even better than his seasoned warriors, he had ordered a suit of armor for her.

Not just any old suit, but something special; something beautiful. Something that would both protect her and be worthy of her station.

His son, Fergus, had laughed himself into a fit when Bryce presented Briar with her new suit of armor; but Briar had loved it from the first.

There rarely went a day that she didn't wear all of it or at least the breastplate.

Bryce had even had the armor made by an Orlesian smith –which had been an insult to Fereldon's own master smith Wade-, simply because Orlais was the fashion capital of Thedas. Beautiful yet practical, durable and most importantly; would protect his only daughter.

The armor itself was made of treated leather, leather that had been dyed to match the brilliant shade of blue Briar's eyes were, a beautiful cobalt blue. The breastplate –which was Briar's favorite piece to wear- almost resembled a leaf in design; the breast (awkwardly, as a woman's armor had to be molded specifically to the woman due to their bust) comprised of the finest, most delicate chainmail.

Instead of full plated armor for her legs, he had ordered a skirt of sorts; much to the pleasure of his wife –Teyrna Eleanor- and Briar's chagrin. It was also of leather; wide leather strips that were the same color as her breastplate; the waist hugging her hips firmly, leaving only the smallest of gaps between the top of the 'skirt' and breastplate. An addition of greaves and leather boots; she had been set.

At the moment, Briar wore her breastplate –with a white undershirt as the chainmail didn't exactly cover specific areas well enough- and a pair of black leather breeches that made polite society ladies frown as they hugged her hips and all the rest; her well worn leather boots not making as she continued her pacing.

Finally the huge double doors opened and a servant stepped out; bowing at her. "Lady Cousland, the Teyrn will see you now."

Impatiently, she nodded and sidestepped the servant; quickly striding into the hall. "Father." She kissed his cheek, an adoring smile lighting up her face.

"Pup, we have a guest." Teyrn Bryce gestured to his left; wearing his own indulgent smile as he regarded her.

Perfunctorily, Briar turned to their guest; who was Arl Howe, the Arl of Amaranthine as well as her father's old friend. "How are you, Arl Howe?" She asked politely, not interested in the slightest with playing the game of politics but one glance from her father reminded her that he was also Teyrn.

And she a Teyrn's daughter.

"Quite well, my dear." Howe replied in his distinctly unpleasant voice; his shrewd eyes examining her. "What a curious piece of… armor, you wear."

Briar waited patiently why he continued his examination of her, quite used to it by now. Unlike most other girls her age and of her station, she did not wear dresses and truss her hair into some ridiculous fashion.

But she was also aware that she garnered attention regardless, especially from men. It disgusted her to no end. She sprouted a pair of tits and every dog in the yard seemed interested in sniffing her.

What Briar wasn't aware of was that even with her unconventional and thoroughly unladylike dress, she was still startling beautiful, much like her own mother had been. In fact, Teyrna Eleanor was still a very beautiful albeit mature woman; her hair a lovely shade of grey with lingering streaks of rich brown and only a hint of crow's feet surrounding her eyes.

Her hair was the same rich, earthy brown her mother's had been, but unlike Eleanor's fashionable braided buns on the back of her head; Briar wore her hair just beneath her chin; straight save for long strands on either side of her face that she usually kept braided and pulled back around her head.

Even though she spent long days in the sun; her complexion was still fair; her skin pale though not in the unhealthy way she had seen on beggars in Denerim –the nation's capital. Her cobalt blue eyes were framed with long lashes, and coupled with her Cupid's bow mouth; overall she had a sweet appearance.

At least until she began speaking.

Briar was fairly certain he wasn't making a compliment so much as just stating the obvious so she said nothing.

"My son, Thomas, has enquired after you." He offered, a knowing gleam in his eye.

Briar shot her father a quick look, hoping that with a battle looming on the horizon he was not about to engage in another futile attempt at marrying her off.

Bryce smiled pleasantly at his daughter; seeing the revulsion in her eyes and knew exactly what she was thinking. He wasn't honestly interested in seeing her married off, he preferred having his Pup at home still, but it was amusing to torture her just a little.

When her father didn't intervene on her behalf, Briar forced a smile. "Thomas, as I recall, is two years _younger_ than me." She tried to keep the disgust from her tone.

Howe shrugged his shoulders. "Such a slight difference in age becomes meaningless as the years progress."

"Ah, but with war looming, surely talking of such things is…" Briar trailed off when her father began laughing; trying to scowl at him but his infectious, booming laugh was contagious; her lips twitching into a reluctant smile. "Oh, ha ha ha." She punctuated with three sarcastic claps.

"Now Pup, behave yourself in front of our guest." Bryce said finally, reaching out to affectionately muss her hair. "I have a few things I wish to say to you."

Briar clasped her hands behind her back with an attentive air though her eyes narrowed; already knowing what was coming and she had every intention of arguing against it.

"While I'm away, you are in charge; I expect to return to my home still in one piece." His voice was firm, though the hint of a smile lurked in his own gaze.

"Father, I wish to join you and Fergus in battle. Mother can-"

"I have placed _you_ in charge, Briar." There was no hint of a smile now. "And I expect you to make me proud."

She lowered her eyelashes, hiding the anger in her eyes. "As you wish, Father."

The moment was over and Bryce pulled her into a quick hug, smiling over her head at Howe. "Forgive the Pup; she has her mother's quick temper and hard-head."

Howe returned the smile, his somewhat strained.

Briar pulled away, planning on informing him she had also inherited her mother's quickness with a blade (her mother had been a battle maid after all) but was distracted when a usually discreet side door to the main hall opened.

Howe and Bryce both turned as well.

"Ah, Duncan."

_This was the Grey Warden_, Briar stared at him almost hungrily. She hadn't had any expectations of his appearance (most girls she had discovered thoughts all 'knights' were handsome and honorable, as she had grown up surrounded by knights, she knew this wasn't always the case. She had known a knight who was ugly as sin, called everyone a 'shit' but could swing an axe and cleave a head in two), or demeanor but she was fairly certain if she _had_ been expecting something, this wouldn't have been it.

The man was tall and broad; his skinned darkly tanned unlike so many others here in Fereldon with long, dark brown almost black hair –and a touch of grey here and there- pulled back into a low tail. What was truly odd was the fact that he wore what seemed to be a robe with a breastplate over it along with pauldrons.

She listened to the short conversation, interrupting when she realized what the Grey Warden was doing in Highever. "You're _recruiting_?"

"I am." Duncan replied amicably, taking in her stance with an interested look. "I am here to see Ser Gilmore as a matter of fact."

"He is indeed a fine knight."

"You look like you-"

Bryce shot Duncan a cautionary look, interrupting that sentence, before turning to his clearly very eager daughter. "You are needed here." He said firmly, glancing over his shoulder at Duncan. "I respect your right to conscript Wardens but… she is my only daughter."

Briar gritted her teeth, audibly.

Duncan gave an easy smile; his white teeth startling against his tanned face. "I will not conscript her, Teyrn."

Bryce breathed a little bit easier, his own smile sliding back into place. "Now, Pup, I need you to find Fergus and inform him that he leaves tonight with me. Arl Howe's men have been delayed and won't be here till dawn."

Even though she was upset, Briar's natural curiosity burned through and she glanced to the Arl. "Why?"

He seemed mildly annoyed with her impertinent question but answered anyways. "The week's rain has caused flooding and my men are overseeing the building of a levy before joining us."

She nodded, glancing back to Duncan almost longingly. "You'll be joining King Cailan at Ostagar then? Is it true this is another Blight? What does a Darkspawn look like?"

Arl Howe was now wearing a disapproving expression on his face while her father seemed both amused and exasperated.

Duncan however, was studying her as if he had never seen anything or anyone quite like her. "Do you know much of the Grey Wardens?" He asked gently.

She nodded quickly.

"She's only laid her hands on every book in the realm dealing with Grey Wardens, not to mention all the bards that have passed through…" Bryce gently but firmly placed a hand on Briar's shoulder. "Pup, you have duties to attend too. There will be time for questions later."

She groaned reluctantly but nodded. "Excuse me, Sers." She nodded to the Arl and Duncan before turning about heel and walking out the double doors.

_By Maker, a Grey Warden…_

***

"Nan's threatening to quit."

Briar halted at the sound of Ser Gilmore's voice, turning on the stone pathway to flash him an easy smile. "What for now?"

"Draven is in the larder."

Her smile broadened. Draven was her Mabari War Hound, a beautiful ecru colored hulk of a beast that stood as high as her waist and could have probably crushed her spine. Of course, Draven crushing her would never happen as the dog had imprinted on her when they were both literally puppies. He had been her constant companion and even now Briar considered Draven her most intelligent friend.

Ser Gilmore shook his head at her amused smile. "Lady Cousland…"

"Nan wouldn't leave, she was my nursemaid and adores me." Briar said matter-of-factly though she did heave her hands heavenward when he frowned. "Alright, alright, I shall save the larder from my beast."

Shaking his head exasperatedly, Ser Gilmore followed the youngest of the Cousland clan into the kitchens; where they both had to duck as a heavy pot came flying towards their heads.

"Nan, that could have hurt!" Briar sounded close to giggling, walking over to hug the elderly woman before she could hurl something else.

"Your bloody beast is in there doing Maker knows what!" Nan spat, pushing Briar away from her; knowing very well she could only force the young girl away because the young girl _allowed_ it.

Briar glanced towards the larder; hearing Draven's gruff barks and growls; her attention momentarily distracted by the Elves who were cowering out of Nan's way. "You're scaring them." She chided gently.

"I'll do more than scare them if they don't get their knife-eared arses back to work." Nan threatened, but it was a hollow threat and they all knew it. "Go get the… dog."

"Dog? He's not just a dog." Briar protested instantly; busy now filching a cookie from the counter top; dodging the next pan that came flying along with Nan's '_you stay out of the sweets, demon child!_'. "He's a _Mabari War Hound_."

"A mutt is a mutt and you best remember that."

Muttering under her breath –only to annoy Nan who was trying her best not to smile- Briar opened the larder door; arching an eyebrow. "Ser Gilmore?"

He moved to stand behind her, cursing loudly.

"What?" Nan shrieked, clearly expecting to hear the Archdemon had possessed the dog and was destroying her pantry. "What's it done now?"

"Rats!"

"They're _huge_!"

"Well _kill_ them you idiots, are those daggers and swords for show only?"

Exchanging looks, Briar and Ser Gilmore waded into the vermin blood that was slowly staining the floor; pooling in the cracks of the stone's foundation, aiding Draven in dispatching their furry little backsides into oblivion.

Nan rounded on her Elvin staff, scowling. "_Back to work_!"

_At this rate_, Briar thought ruefully as she drove her Dar'Misu dagger through a particularly large and ugly rat, _I'll never have a chance to talk to Duncan_.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

It was the low, dangerous warning growl from Draven that woke Briar up.

Fergus had already left with his men for Ostagar after a lengthy goodbye with his family; leaving them with what remained of the castle's guards and the few men Howe had brought with him.

"Draven…" She murmured tiredly, sitting up and stared at him; her eyes adjusting to the dim candlelight that lit her room. "What is it?"

His small, pointed ears were flat against his head; his mouth bared in a snarl as he continued growling.

A loud noise that she immediately identified as a body hitting the hard stone that made up the floor had Briar on her feet. Her door was heavy and would hold long enough –providing someone tried getting in and then by chance managed to make it a step in with their throat intact- for her to dress.

Practice made slipping into a sleeveless top and her full armor a short job. Quickly, purposefully, she got into the chest that rested at the foot of her bed. Inside rested her Dar'Misu daggers, a black sporran that would hang from her belt and also contained three small vials of healing potion, an acid bomb she had filched from Fergus as well as fifty silver pieces.

Usually, she kept her Dar'Misu's in their sheaths on her back but she had a feeling she was going to need them.

Draven was pacing in front of the door anxiously, his low growls never ceasing.

Pressing a finger to her lips, Briar stepped back against the wall behind the door and reached for the handle.

Draven laid down, feigning sleep.

Slowly, she opened the door; hearing footsteps.

"Where the bloody hell is the-"

She hadn't wasted any time in remaining hidden but stepped out; bringing the blade of one of the Dar'Misu's across the stranger's throat; closing her eyes as a warm spray of blood hit her; her lips pressed firmly together to keep the blood from trickling into her mouth.

She heard a thud and opened her eyes; staring down with wide eyes. This was one of Arl Howe's men.

Her first thought was that this was a mistake, there must be some sort of misunderstanding here but she heard a shrill scream from across the hall that was abruptly cut off and knew it wasn't.

_They had been betrayed._

"OREN!"

Briar wasn't aware she had screamed her nephew's name, already darting across the hall; dimly aware more enemies were approaching, noting in the back of her mind that there was an archer to her left; half hidden behind a statue.

Access to the rooms Fergus and his family occupied was blocked when a burly guard sporting the Howe crest on his armor stepped before her.

"Come now, lassie, be a good girl and this won't be so bad." He smiled at her, revealing black stumps where teeth had been.

Briar came out of her almost stupor and looked around, truly looked around. The odds were stacked highly against her, and though she was confident in her abilities to take down men twice her size and fare well against multiple opponents; this was a fight she could not win.

"Kill them all, Briar!"

Thank the Maker for her mother, she thought; Eleanor's words stirring her into action. Twin daggers were propelled into action; slashing and stabbing through the assembled assailants.

Eleanor was armed with a yew longbow and poison laced arrows, taking down the men Briar didn't.

When they had cleared the hall; they shared a brief embrace before Briar –mindful suddenly of her gory condition- pulled away; looking at her mother's shining armor, now marred with blood.

Draven stood off to the side; his muzzle coated in blood and some gore from his own exertions.

"What's going on, Briar?" Eleanor demanded after doing a quick visual sweep of her daughter for wounds and finding nothing.

"I don't know… The Arl's men… they attacked. Where's father?"

"He was downstairs with… with Howe. I heard a scream."

That brought Briar's original goal back to the forefront of her mind and without saying a word she darted into Fergus' suites, halting a few feet in.

Behind her, Eleanor let out an anguished cry; dropping to her knees. "My poor Oren, my poor precious baby, who would do this?"

Briar didn't say a word; her jaw set sternly as well as her face though inside a wild woman buried deep within her heart was screaming in horror, in agony and pain. Quietly, she crouched down by her nephew and sister-in-law, Oriana.

Eleanor stifled her grieving wails; watching through glistening eyes as Briar arranged the two in such a way that they might have been sleeping. If not for the blood that soaked their clothes and the hint of a stomach wound peeking through Oriana's favorite nightdress, a robe brought with her from Orlais.

"Come." She murmured, placing a hand on Briar's shoulder and gently squeezed; stepping away as the youth got to her feet. "We must…"

"Find Howe and gut him like the pig he is!" It was all too clear now that this had all been planned, from the 'delay' of his troops right down to murdering the remaining Cousland's in their sleep.

Her mother's vicious smile clearly indicated that Eleanor liked that idea, very much but she shook her head no. "We must find your father."

_If he lives_, they both mentally added.

***

_It had all been in vain._

_Battling throughout the castle was no easy feat and would have undoubtedly ended up with them both dead if not for Draven and his powerful jaws. It helped even more when they picked up a few remaining soldiers that had seen the fall of the castle to Howe's men._

_Ser Gilmore they had stumbled across. He had been fighting his way towards their rooms on the upper levels of the castle but been delayed, numerous times thanks to Howe's men._

_It had been Ser Gilmore who had informed them just how deep Howe's treachery ran._

"_Him and the Teyrn had been going over battle plans, having an ale when Howe's men… Your father was going to the larder…"_

"_Of course," Eleanor had breathed, letting out a shaky laugh. "There's an escape route through the larder, only a few know of. We must get there, too him."_

"_What about Howe?" Briar had asked, breathing heavily through her mouth; wiping blood from her lips only to smear it across her cheek._

"_Howe will be dealt with but we must find your father! Obey me, Briar!"_

_That was not the tone of her mother but the tone of Eleanor, battlemaid of Highever. It was a voice of command and Briar just nodded, unable to say anything._

_Now here they were, in the larder. Ser Gilmore had retreated to the main hall with the rest of the remaining knights to hold the door against Howe's forces who were steadily beating against it with a battering ram._

_They had found Bryce._

"Father!" Briar rushed over to him; but didn't touch him; leaving that to her mother as she took in the blood that was staining his right side through his doublet which was already soaked and knew instantly he had been stabbed.

"Bryce!" Eleanor crouched down beside him; careful of his right side which he was clutching, tears in her eyes. "Maker's Breath, what is happening? You're bleeding."

"Howe's men… found me first… Almost did me in right there." It was obvious speaking caused him pain.

Briar gripped her Dar'Misu's even tighter, her knuckles turning white. "We need to get you out of here, Father." She said softly, already knowing that moving him would be impossible.

He looked up at her, understanding in his eyes along with agony, both mental and physical. "I won't survive the standing."

She took a deep breath, forcing the lie from her lips. "That's not true. You'll be fine." She was trying to be calm, to be somewhat rational and it was no easy feat with the expression dawning on her mother's face as Eleanor stroked Bryce's hair.

He almost smiled, blood appearing in the crack between his lips. "My darling girl," The blood seeped from the side of his mouth in a fine trickle. "If only will could make it so."

Eleanor hesitated before saying what was apparently on her mind. "Once Howe's men break through the gate they will find us. We must go!"

Briar nodded, holding out her hands as if to raise Bryce to his feet after sheathing her daggers.

He shook his head, feebly wiping away the blood that lightly but steadily flowed from his mouth. "Someone must reach… Fergus… Tell him what has happened."

She nodded again but didn't say what she was thinking. _Howe must have something planned for him too_.

Eleanor was shaking her own head. "Bryce no, the servant's passage is right here. We can flee together, find you healing magic." She said desperately, one of the tears finally running down her cheek.

"The castle is surrounded." He said, sounding almost desperate though the desperation wasn't for himself but his family; his eyes searching the bloody floor as if it would tell him how to make it through this. At last he looked up at his women. "I cannot make it." He said with a note of finality.

"I'm afraid the Teyrn is correct."

All three Couslands looked up as the Grey Warden walked into the larder, sheathing his sword in its scabbard on his back as he approached.

"Howe's men have not yet discovered this exit but they surround the castle. Getting past will be difficult." He kneeled down with them.

Eleanor stared at him. "You are… Duncan, then?" She asked hesitatingly. "The Grey Warden?"

"Yes, your Ladyship. I tried to reach you sooner…"

"My daughter helped me get here." Eleanor looked to Briar who was simply staring down at her father, watching him die. "Maker be praised."

Duncan glanced at Briar, who had honestly been his first choice for recruit after both seeing her and then hearing of her. "I am not surprised."

She still didn't look at him. "Thank you for saving my father." She said, hoarsely.

"I fear your thanks are premature." Duncan sighed heavily, looking back down at the Teyrn. "I doubt I have saved him."

They all fell silent as the sounds of the fighting drew nearer.

"Whatever is to be done now it must be done quick. They're coming." Eleanor said urgently.

Bryce finally spoke up, coming out of his fog long enough to look at Briar and then to the Grey Warden. "Duncan, I bid you, take my wife and daughter to safety." He pleaded, the last request of a dying man.

"I will your Lordship, but I fear I must ask for something in return." Duncan said gravely.

"Anything!"

"What is happening here pales in comparison to the evil now loose in this world. I came to your castle seeking a recruit. The Darkspawn threat demands that I leave with one."

Briar frowned when her father's barely focusing eyes drifted her way.

"I… I understand…"

When all three adults eyes turned on her, Briar frowned. "What about Ser Gilmore?" She demanded, not believing they were having this conversation now, when her father's life hung in the balance.

"Truthfully," Duncan began, looking as though he knew her thoughts. "you were always my first choice." He looked back to Bryce. "I will take the Teyrna and your daughter to Ostagar, to tell Fergus and the king what happened. Then, your daughter joins the Grey Wardens."

Bryce nodded grimly. "So long as justice comes to Howe… I agree."

Duncan turned his attention to Briar once more. "Then I offer you a place in the Grey Wardens. Fight with us."

Briar shook her head no. "I cannot leave my father."

"You cannot stay here to die." Bryce said quickly. "Pup, for me, fight with the Wardens."

She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. "I… I accept your offer then, Duncan."

He nodded curtly, rising to his feet. "We must leave quickly then."

"Bryce, are you…?" Eleanor hesitated. "Sure?"

"Our daughter will not die of Howe's treachery. She will live and make her mark on the world."

As if something had been decided that Briar had missed, Eleanor stared at her daughter. "Darling, go with Duncan. You have a better chance to escape without me."

"Eleanor…" Bryce whispered.

"Hush, Bryce." She smiled lovingly at him, her eyes determined. "I'll kill every bastard that comes through that door to buy them time. But I won't abandon you."

"Mother…"

"My place is with your father, at his side. In death and beyond."

Bryce let his tears freely flow, cleansing a trail through the blood that specked his face. "I'm so… so sorry it has come to this my love…" He murmured hoarsely, turning his face to press it against her, inhaling deeply one last time.

She hugged him gently. "We've led a good life and done all we could. It's up to our children now."

"Then… go Pup."

Briar met her father's eyes for what would be the last time, the pain that had been threatening to wash over her exploding in her chest; tearing her heart apart and making it hard to breathe through the agony.

"Warn your brother. Know that we love you both."

The fighting had reached the kitchen, just beyond the larder door though Briar wasn't aware of it; tears running down her face, tears she made no apologies for.

"You do us proud."

Duncan had been staring at the door, giving the three what privacy he could but rounded now on Briar. "They've broken through the gates, we must go, now." Gently but firmly he gripped her by her upper arm, pulling her to her feet.

Briar couldn't get her feet to move properly, stumbling along as she looked over her shoulder, seeing her mother watching.

"Goodbye, darling." Eleanor whispered.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

Duncan had expected grief, anger and vows of revenge from the youngest Cousland. He had expected to have had to knock her out and carry her out of the castle when the realization of what was happening hit her. He had expected to deal with her wrath when she came too.

None of that was what he got however.

Briar allowed him to lead her so far down the passageway before sliding her arm from his grasp and unsheathing her Dar'Misu'. Behind them, Draven followed just as quiet and stealthily as they.

Unnoticed, they had slipped through enemy lines and disappeared into the night.

Duncan was for sure that after they had crossed the boundary that marked the Cousland land, the agony would come.

***

Briar had plenty of agony to go around, grief for all and a desire for vengeance that could have drowned all in its path were it an ocean. But… for all her pain and suffering, she had learned her mother's pragmatism in only hours.

Her grieving could be channeled and used against the Darkspawn. Her vengeance would have to wait, she knew eventually, one day she would get her chance at Rendon Howe and when it came; Maker have mercy on his soul for she would not.

In the space of a night, where once a girl on the cusp of adulthood stood was now a woman with more bitterness and heartbreak than most would ever know.

The journey to Ostagar was not a quick one, Highever was located on Ferelden's northern coast while Ostagar was a few weeks journey south, near the Kocari Wilds. Weeks if they traveled fast and skipped making camp.

Instead of stopping in villages and staying in inns or pitching a tent, they took turns sleeping in the one bedroll Duncan possessed. One would sleep, the other stand guard.

They had stopped only once and that was only to pick up supplies. They could have stopped to hunt for their food but that would have meant also stopping to skin and then build a fire to prepare it and time was short.

So instead, Duncan had purchased dried meats –jerky, and flat, unleavened bread that would be edible for weeks –if not bland and dry. Some health poultices and Briar had used what little money she had left to buy a wooden pestle and mortar along with a set of vials.

When Duncan had asked what they were for –though she had a sneaking suspicion he already knew-, she had flatly told him she had seen deathroot growing alongside the roads and wanted to make a poison to coat her blades in.

Walking was boring. The monotony was occasionally broken up by bandits, though they usually only ran three to four a pack, easily dispatched.

A noblewoman would have fretted about sleeping on the hard ground; with only a bedroll protecting her from the dirt and who knew what else. She would have worried about lecherous advances from the Grey Warden.

Briar did neither. When she slept; she was grateful to lie on the bedroll Duncan provided; slipping into the blissful oblivion unconsciousness offered her. She didn't worry about anything inappropriate concerning Duncan simply because she knew instinctively that he wasn't one of _those_ men.

The first few days, Duncan didn't try to make small talk, or speak at all for that matter; unless absolutely necessary.

That was fine with Briar, she needed the silence; she needed to focus inward and channel all her emotions; knowing if she didn't she would turn right around and hunt down that dog Howe and gut him. It wasn't easy though, Oren's little face floated around her mind, even her sister-in-law's. She could still see her dying father and hear her mother's final farewell.

"_Goodbye darling_."

No, running off in pursuit of Rendon Howe would only get her killed, then her family would never be avenged. She was a skilled Rogue, she would wait and bide her time. Maybe not tomorrow nor even next month, but eventually, they would meet again.

And he _would_ feel all her wrath then.

Day three Duncan began speaking to her and Briar felt like she had found… well, not a parent but perhaps a mentor. He quizzed her on so many things; it almost felt like she was back in Highever with Aldous, her old teacher.

Politics, not so much as what was going on in the country but how to navigate throughout certain… situations, matters of estate. History, mainly focused around Blights, of the Grey Wardens. Fighting, her skills and where she had learned them, her accomplishments on the lists.

Day seven he began teaching her; filling in the gaps of her education with what he deemed needed for a Grey Warden, which was a lot as Briar found out.

He had taught her the Grey Warden motto.

_In war, victory_

_In peace, vigilance_

_In death, sacrifice_

He had taught her that as a Grey Warden she swore allegiance to no king or empire, but to her duty. He told her of the Right of Conscription and explained that here in Fereldon it was used only sparingly as the Grey Wardens had only been admitted back into the empire recently and were still viewed with suspicion and indeed, hostility.

He had explained, gently, that upon joining the Grey Wardens they forfeited claims to titles. Which meant that providing she survived whatever was looming, she would no longer be Lady Cousland of Highever, simply Briar.

At first, it was a bit heartbreaking to know that while she might return to her family's home –providing there was anything left to return too- but as a visitor, a guest but not a Cousland heir. Then… it was a relief. All the things that had been expected of her, the mundane; boring things… such as a making a suitable marriage and producing several more Couslands, that no longer was in her future.

As silly and shallow as it was, that made Briar happy.

Duncan had also pressed into her something that she would never forget: A Grey Warden does _whatever_ it took to win; to perform their duty. _Whatever_.

No matter the cost.

Considering she had nothing worth losing, Briar wasn't unduly worried about that.

***

"Duncan, do you think Fergus is here?"

Duncan glanced down at his traveling companion then back to the road; the ruins of Ostagar looming over them. "I don't see why he wouldn't be." He said finally, nodding to a guard who then waved up to the wall; the gates being pushed open from the inside. "Though the chances of finding him… are slim."

There were soldiers everywhere, and as Briar frantically searched the faces for her brother, she knew Duncan was right. Finding Fergus wouldn't be an easy feat, providing she had the time to even begin contemplating where to look. Instead, she resigned herself to her impending fate; following Duncan up the slightly steep hill; finally raising her eyes to the people who seemed to be awaiting them.

It took only an instant to recognize King Cailan, not because she knew him personally, but she had seen him five years previous at his wedding; he hadn't change so very much.

He shone resplendent in his golden armor, his pale blond hair hanging almost to his shoulders; a days worth of beard covering his face.

"Ho there, Duncan!" He called, shrugging away from the guards trailing him and covered ground until he stood before the Grey Warden.

"King Cailan." Duncan's tone showed his surprise, taking the King's hand when offered. "I didn't expect a-"

"A royal welcome?" Cailan asked with a wry grin; obviously filled with admiration for the Grey Warden. "I was beginning to worry you'd miss all the fun."

Briar managed to suppress a snort.

Duncan didn't seem to find it that amusing either though he wasn't so obvious about it. "Not if I could help it, your Majesty."

Cailan seemed elated. "Then I'll have the mighty Duncan by my side in battle after all." He inhaled deeply, satisfaction seeming to ooze from him. "Glorious."

Duncan glanced at Briar, his eyebrows drawing together in a scowl when he seen the open disdain on her face.

When Cailan glanced at her however, Briar's features were composed into a blank mask.

"The other Grey Warden's told me you found a promising new recruit. I take it this is she?"

Briar managed a semblance of a smile when Cailan moved to stand before her, seeing recognition flaring in his eyes.

"Allow me to introduce you-"

"No need, Duncan." Cailan waved an airy hand at him. "You are Bryce's youngest, are you not? I don't think we've ever actually met."

"Yes, I am, your Majesty." She said evenly. "I bring important news."

"Is this about your father? Your brother has been concerned about him."

A momentary twinge of pain flickered through Briar's cobalt eyes, her mouth becoming pinched. "He's not coming. He died when the castle was taken." She said tersely.

"Dead?" Cailan echoed, disbelief and shock vying for control of his face. "What do you mean dead? Duncan, do you know anything about this?"

"Teyrn Cousland and his wife are dead, your Majesty. Arl Howe has shown himself a traitor and taken over Highever Castle." Duncan said grimly. "Had we not escaped, he would have killed us and told you any story he wished."

Cailan had turned his back to them, shaking his head. "I… I can scarcely believe it. How could he think he could get away with such treachery? As soon as we are done here, I will turn my army north and bring Howe to justice." He turned back around, staring down intently at Briar. "You have my word."

Briar nodded once. "Thank you, your Majesty."

There was a moment of awkward silence before Cailan cleared his throat; looking apologetic. "No doubt you wish to see your brother,"

Her face lit up.

His fell. "But unfortunately he and a party are scouting in the wilds."

"When will he return?" She asked quietly, feeling the heavy burden of what had happened as well as what was coming returning to rest on her shoulders.

Cailan hesitated for only a fraction of a second. "You will see him again once the battle is over."

Her cupid's bow mouth turned down into a frown.

"I apologize but there's nothing more that I can do." To his credit, Cailan both looked and sounded sorry. "All I can suggest is that you vent your grief against the Darkspawn for the time being."

"Thank you, your Majesty." The words sounded flat, even to her but she couldn't help herself. The only thing that kept Briar from screaming at him was her mother's voice in her mind, reminding her that she was a noble and nobles did _not_ scream at their King.

No matter how much they wished.

"I'm sorry to cut this short but I must return to my tent. Loghain waits eagerly to bore me with his strategy."

Briar fell silent as Duncan once more filled in the lapse of conversation, listening as he enquired after what had been happening, of the Darkspawn. Somehow, she wasn't surprised when Cailan made reference to the fact that he didn't consider this to be a true Blight, actually sounding forlorn over the fact.

By the end of the brief meeting, Briar had determined that while kind hearted, the King was nothing more than a simpleton.

Once the king and his retinue had crossed the long stone bridge –the King's highway-, Duncan gestured for Briar to follow; clasping his hands behind his back as they walked. He briefed her in on what had happened before her recruitment as well as his personal belief that this was indeed a Blight and that there was in fact an awakened Archdemon.

Which sent a shiver of fear and something else, something she couldn't quite describe, down her spine.

At the end of the 'highway', he stopped her and gestured towards the forked path, one direction leading to what looked like the general encampment, the other towards a more quiet, though still very busy camp. It took but a moment for her to spot the royal pennants fluttering in the breeze, beyond that several domed tents forming a circle from which a crackling of lightening seemed to be emanating.

_Mages_, she thought quickly, knowing where there were Mages there were also Templars and no doubt Chantry.

"I have to go see to that everything is prepared for the Joining," Duncan announced, shaking his head when she opened her mouth. "I would tell you more if I could, Briar, but I'm afraid I cannot. Explore camp for a bit if you like, get a hot meal and if you should happen across a young man by the name of Alistair, inform him to report to me."

Briar watched as Duncan strode off, feeling like she had been left with more questions than answers and sighed; glancing towards the soldier's camp and knew there was no way she was going in there; she had no reason too, Fergus was out in the wilds.

Sighing, she glanced down at Draven who was standing at her side; his short tail wagging furiously as he took in all the new sights, sounds and smells. "Shall we go find this Alistair, then?" She asked, not surprised when he barked and set off; ignoring some of the more curious looks she got, knowing she could probably use a bath and a full night's rest opposed to just a few hours here and there.

When Draven took the lead, Briar just followed; keeping her eyes forward and head erect.

She was a Cousland and Cousland's did not show weakness to outsiders.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Updates will be sporadic as my website is currently hosting Season 7 of our Fiction Awards. Anyone interested in nominating some of their favorite stories can check out it out by visiting the link in my profile.

**CHAPTER 4**

The ruins of Ostagar were overwhelming. Briar felt like she was going in circles, not helped by the fact that Draven seemed torn between staying at her side and going off to investigate the new smells. Finally, she made for the outskirts of the camp; wondering idly just high up they were.

When they had crossed the King's Highway, she hadn't looked down; busy listening to Duncan but she had been dimly aware that they were too high up for comfort.

Now she wanted to know just _how_ high. A quick glance was all she needed to know that she preferred the other side of the camp; the one that led towards the Kocari Wilds, where the ground wasn't a hundred feet below.

As she was picking her way back towards the cesspool that was camp; she stepped out between old, vine covered pillars and blinked. Two men stood on the circular stone; one looking almost sheepish and the other… he looked angry.

Mage, she quickly identified, taking in the giveaway robes with a mental sigh. Mages were always accompanied by Templars and given that this was the eve of battle; no doubt the Chantry was here as well. Just what she needed to make her month, a lecture on the Maker.

The mage was giving the youth –though in all honesty, he was probably only a few years older than her- a piercing look, as if contemplating unleashing some sort of deadly magic in his direction. "What her Reverence desires is of no concern to me! I am busy helping the Grey Wardens –by the King's orders, I might add!"

Briar arched an eyebrow, having noted the way the man's posture had straightened just a fraction at reference to Grey Warden's, wondering if this was Alistair. She could see his profile and could instantly see he was fairly handsome. His reddish blond hair caught the afternoon sunlight and reflected it, cut short with just a bit more at the front; he was a man who liked his hair.

All in all, a handsome man indeed.

"Should I have asked her to write a note?" The man asked, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he was trying not to smile.

The mage wasn't as amused. "Tell her I will not be harassed in this manner!"

Now the man was openly scoffing. "Right… I was harassing you by relaying a message."

"Your glibness does you no credit."

"And here I thought we were getting along," The man was being openly sarcastic now; folding his arms over his chest. "I was even considering naming one of my children after you… The grumpy one."

Briar clamped both hands over her mouth, mildly surprised to find she was on the verge of laughing, she had been so sure she would never laugh again.

"Enough!" The mage threw his hands into the air exasperatedly. "I will speak to the woman if I must! Get out of my way, fool!"

Briar stepped aside in order to avoid being trampled; turning her head to watch the mage storm away. When she looked back, the man was half grinning at her in a slightly puzzled way; already walking towards her.

"You know," He began, still smiling his odd little grin. "It's so heartwarming how a Blight can bring people together."

She arched an eyebrow, wondering if he was being purposefully asinine.

To his credit, he realized she wasn't finding him amusing and looked sheepish again. "It… it was a joke, I do that. So… uh," He seemed at a loss for what to do with his hands, finally clasping them in front of himself. "Are you another mage?" Now he looked worried, envisioning just how he would look as a toad.

"If I am?" She asked, just to hear what he would say.

"I'd rather not be turned into a toad if it's all the same." He quickly said, frowning when he realized she was actually smirking at him. "Have we met?"

"No."

It seemed to dawn on him then; his brown eyes widening before narrowing. "You're Duncan's new recruit." He said finally, looking her over in a way she wasn't used too. He was appraising her as a fellow warrior, not… a possible match.

Briar was thrown off for a moment, the only other non-related male who had looked at her like that had been Ser Gilmore, and then Duncan. She felt her throat close up, trying desperately not to think of Ser Gilmore who had undoubtedly died defending Castle Cousland.

What Briar didn't know was that Duncan had gone to Highever seeking a recruit, preferably the Teyrn's only daughter who had been rumored to be just as good with a blade as Ser Gilmore, possibly even better. Alistair had met the Teyrn's son, Fergus, who had laughingly described Briar as 'a woman with a beautiful face and an ugly temper who could slice your throat with either her words or dagger'.

Fergus hadn't been lying about the beautiful face.

When Briar didn't offer a response, Alistair smiled hesitantly. "Well, glad to meet you. As the junior member of the order, I'll be going with you when you prepare for the Joining."

Her brow furrowed. "The Joining?"

He looked uncomfortable now. "Ah…. I can't really…. Talk about it, not yet at any rate." He said slowly; staring down at her intently.

She nodded, clearing her throat. "I'm…" She hesitated, having almost introduced herself as Lady Cousland but that simply would not do. Most Grey Wardens, she had learned, gave up their last names; it was a tradition. And even if she did not, being a Cousland didn't really matter so much besides being her family name (not that she wasn't proud of being a Cousland, she was) simply because Grey Wardens could not inherit titles. "Briar."

"Right, that was the name." Alistair nodded, once more smiling, the golden . "You know… I just realized that there have never been many women in the Grey Wardens. I wonder why that is?"

Despite everything that had happened within the past month and her still raging beneath the surface grief and anger, Briar actually smiled. True, it was a small; half smile, but a smile regardless. "You want more women in the Grey Wardens, do you?"

His smile broadened. "Would that be so terrible? Not that I'm, you know, some kind of lecher or anything."

She arched an eyebrow.

"Please stop looking at me like that." Alistair hastily cleared his throat; obviously casting about for another topic; one that would lead him out of these waters. "So… out of curiosity, have you actually fought a Darkspawn before?"

"No."

He looked like he might tell her about his own Darkspawn encounters then seemed to think better of it.

Truth was, Alistair could have told her all he could about the Darkspawn and it wouldn't have prepared her. There was no preparing for Darkspawn; how they looked, their stench… the noises they made. His eyebrows drew together in a frown. "I suppose we ought to go find Duncan… the Joining and all…"

"What were you and the mage fighting about?" She asked suddenly.

Now he looked even more uncomfortable, if that were possible. "Well… the Circle is here by the King's request and the um, the Chantry doesn't really…"

"Like that."

He nodded, a hint of amusement creeping back into his eyes. "The Chantry likes to remind the mages just how unwelcome they are, which puts me in an awkward position. I was once a Templar."

Even Briar had to wince at that one, trying to picture this… clown, as a Templar. She honestly couldn't see it, but didn't say anything. As they apparently would be… Grey Wardens together, there was no point in alienating him. "That would be awkward." She offered hesitantly.

Alistair grinned, pleased she was at least making an attempt at talking to him. "I'm sure the Revered Mother meant it as an insult –sending me as her messenger- and the mage picked right up on that. I never would have done it but Duncan says we're supposed to cooperate and get along. Apparently _they_ didn't get the same speech."

"Apparently."

***

The Grey Warden's were situated on the edge of the royal camp, or at least where King Cailan and his entourage had pitched their tents. Close enough to be near incase of trouble but far enough away where Briar could almost pretend they were alone.

Not that she fancied being the only female in this group of five, and not for the reasons most other women would assume. She had been greeted with 'you're not what I expect' by Duncan's other two recruits: Daveth and Ser Jory.

By not what they had been expecting, they meant: why are you female?

Daveth had been roasting what looked suspiciously looked like either very small cats or rather large rats; his lank black hair falling into his face. Ser Jory had just been standing off to the side, staring across the way as the Revered Mother delivered a sermon to a group of soldiers clustered at the foot of the small stage she was preaching from.

Duncan was talking on the other side of the large, blazing fire that marked the center of their camp with Alistair, who looked a bit worried.

Unsure what to do, Briar dropped down on a wooden bench and just stared into the flames. Now that she wasn't moving, she was becoming acutely aware that she reeked. It had been about a week since her last bath –which had been in a cold stream without the benefits of soap. She smelled like stale blood, body odor and something else she couldn't and didn't want to describe.

"Here, budge up."

Draven, who had settled himself at Briar's feet, raised his head and looked questioningly at the man now trying to sit besides his mistress; letting out a low warning growl.

Daveth stared down at the Mabari hound, offering a nervous smile. "Now now, doggie, I promise, I'll behave m'self." He gingerly sat down; offering Briar a trencher. "I promise, the breads not too stale."

Briar stared down at the trencher, the first she had ever seen made of bread. She had seen the wooden trenchers the men in the Castle Cousland garrison had used, inch thick pieces of wood that had been cut into square shapes with an oval indentation in the center, a bowl of sorts. This… trencher, Daveth had given her was almost the same, crudely made and edible. Much more practical she supposed, as it meant less equipment to tote around.

"Is this… rat?" She asked hesitantly, staring down at the lumps of meat that floated in the center of the bread bowl; surrounded by something she was going to assume was sauce.

Daveth frowned, staring down at his own trencher. "Well what else would it be? Ain't no rabbits, not this close to camp but… rats a'plenty."

"Charming." She murmured, her stomach growling; informing her that it didn't care where the food had come from, the actual appetizing smells were enough to say it was time to eat.

Daveth watched her intently, a smile playing his lips when the new recruit finally took a hesitant bite; the gravy he had made from a few castoff vegetables the chef for the King had thrown out along with a pinch of flour he had helped himself too. Sodding chef, Daveth had tried to beg a few but the man wouldn't even _sell_ them, so… when his back had been turned, Daveth had nicked what he could; along with a dollop of the cream (for the King's own meal no doubt), a pinch of flour and a small bit of spice.

When satisfied that she wasn't going to hurl it into the flames, Daveth chuckled and dug in himself.

Briar had a feeling he was laughing at her and focused on the meal. After living off of dried jerky for weeks, this was… delicious. It was better than a feast, or perhaps she was simply starving. The gravy had begun to seep into the bread; softening it, making it delicious as well.

She finished the stew portion and broke off a chunk of the bread; offering the rest to Draven.

He sniffed at it delicately, huffing.

"You'll go hungry." She cautioned.

Huffing again, he took it gently from her.

"That's what I thought."

"Right smart mutt you got there." Daveth said through a mouthful of bread.

Briar closed her eyes, groaning. She didn't open them when a snarl, followed by a yelp and a flurry of motion beside her occurred, already knowing what was happening.

"Oy, your dog, it's-"

Briar opened her eyes, staring at Ser Jory who was now staring down at the ground and followed his gaze. Draven had pounced on Daveth; knocked him off the bench and pinned him to the ground.

Daveth was shrieking, though he quickly clamped his lips together when he seen the Mabari's drooling jaws; closing his eyes in time to avoid getting spittle in them.

Alistair and Duncan had joined them at this point, Alistair looking amused while Duncan seemed both amused and exasperated. "Briar, if you would…"

Sighing, she stepped over the bench and placed a hand on Draven's massive head; feeling a sort of malicious enjoyment at the sight of Daveth cowering there under the Mabari. Draven would not kill unless on command, but there was no need to fill Daveth in on that. "He is not a _mutt_, he is a _Mabari war hound_, try not to forget it."

Daveth nodded frantically, not about to risk opening his mouth just yet.

"Draven, off him."

Letting out what was unmistakably a derisive snort, Draven did.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

"She looks like she could do with a good bath." Alistair commented, watching from across the fire as Briar wolfed down her food. He had been polite when they first met and not commented on the atrocious smell coming from her, he did have some manners.

That and if she was truly the hellcat her brother had painted her as, Alistair didn't want to find his bits and bobs on the ground for insulting her.

He surreptitously was studying her and trying to keep up with the conversation he was attempting to have with Duncan, about the upcoming venture into the Korcari Wilds.

Duncan spared a glance at his latest recruit, admitting to himself that a good scrubbing wouldn't hurt her any. However... "There isn't time, if she wants one, perhaps after obtaining..." He trailed off, realizing Daveth was trying to overhear them.

Ser Jory had been standing at the fire with his hands clasped behind his back, frowning into the flames. When Duncan and Alistair stood up, he snapped out of his reverie and gave them his full attention, the frown deepening.

"Briar, Daveth, if you're finished?" Duncan posed it as a question though they both immediately tossed their trenchers into the fire and stood up, giving him their full attention. "Now that you're fed and rested, I have a task for the three of you."

Briar stared at him curiously, feeling Daveth fidgiting beside her.

"The Joining requires Darkspawn blood, enough for the each of you." Duncan said calmly, ignoring Ser Jory's sudden green pallor and Daveth's increased squirming. "One vial each."

"Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like whatever he's about to say next?" Daveth sighed.

"You three will go out into the Korcari wilds and retrieve the blood," Duncan said, ignoring all three recruits now pale faces.

"And as junior member of the order, I'll be going with you." Alistair said, hoping that would ease their tension just a little bit, especially Ser Jory, who looked like he was going to have to bend over and place his head between his knees. "Just to make sure everything goes... alright."

"While you're out there, I have another task for you." Duncan said slowly, this time fixing his stare on Alistair.

"Is it part of the Joining?" Briar asked, drawing his attention to herself and meeting his gaze coolly.

"No, it is not, but it's just as important. There is an old ruin in the wilds, it used to be a Grey Warden's base, but now..." He sighed softly. "There should be a cache, holding some very important documents. I need you to retrieve these documents."

"What kind of documents?" She next asked, her brow furrowing.

"Treaties, if you must know." Duncan sighed heavily, looking ancient and tired, even though his posture was straight and strong. "I don't think we'll need them but it never hurts to... have a reminder of past promises. This is not a part of the Joining ritual but it must be done."

"Are you going to tell us what the Joining actually is?" Ser Jory asked with a hint of trepidation in his tone, clearing his throat when Daveth actually shot him a scornful look.

"No. All I will say is that it is a heavy price we Grey Wardens pay but it is necessary."

The three new recruits all exchanged looks.

***

The Korcari Wilds were unlike anything Briar had ever seen before. The place was shrouded in mist, murky swamps to her left and right as they followed a thin but well pounded trail.

"I don't like this..." Ser Jory was saying from behind her, walking alongside Daveth while Alistair brought up the rear. "I didn't think we'd be doing something... something like this..."

"Well what did you think being a Grey Warden was going to be like?" Daveth sneered contemptuously. "Tea and cakes?"

Jory ignored the jibe, scowling slightly. "I just thought... that I had already proved myself, what more need I prove?"

"This is something we have to do and there is no point in whining about it." Briar said sharply, throwing him a look over her shoulder. "Just pay attention to the matter on hand."

In turn, Jory looked over his own shoulder at Alistair. "Shouldn't you be up there?" He demanded pointedly.

"This is your quest, I'm just here to make sure everything goes as smoothly as possible." Alistair replied with his easy grin.

Silence fell on the group again as they plodded through, Daveth murmuring old stories about the Chasind that he had heard, his eyes darting every which way as if expecting the 'Wilder' folk to come leaping from the mists and attack, ready to eat their still warm flesh after they had been brutally murdered.

He had just gotten started on legends of 'Flemeth' when the first bays of wolves reached them, all four instantly drawing swords.

Battle drove all thoughts from Briar's mind, this was simple. This didn't require her participation in useless conversation or dwelling on things she couldn't change. What it did require was concentrating on the fighting, on killing as many enemies as she could and doing it quickly and efficiently.

It was something that required her complete concentration on one simple, uncomplicated task.

Kill or be killed.

***

Alistair watched quietly as Briar cleaned her sword, taking note of the rather elegant hilt. He didn't miss the reverence in her gestures either, a frown marring his forehead. She had killed with a swift proficiency that told him she had been training for years, mastering her chosen form of art with a finesse that was rather chilling.

"Were those werewolves, you think?" Jory asked, studying a carcass with a would be casual air, nudging the body with the toe of his boot.

"I think you'd know the difference between a regular wolf and a werewolf." Daveth shook his head with a long suffering sigh. "Why? You get bit?"

"Not badly." Jory replied defensively.

"You're scratched."

Briar glanced up into Alistair's face, surprised that he was so close to her and she hadn't realized it until now. She followed his gaze to her forearm, shrugging. "It's not that bad."

"But it could become infected." He said gently, reaching into his faded brown leather sporran and pulled out a small blue vial. "Usually, I'd make a poultice with this but... I think a drop or two will do the trick."

She watched intently as he took her arm gently and tended to what seemed to be nothing but a mere scratch. When Alistair's firm but tender fingers probed the scratch, it stung and became evident that the scratch went a bit deeper than she had thought.

"A drop of this... A bandage..." Alistair said, doing each action as he said it, finally leaning away from her with a satisfied smile. "Not the best job in the world but it'll do."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

***

Not without a bit more whining, encountering a scene that had told them a skirmish had taken place, a wounded soldier and a darkspawn trap they finally located the remains of the old Warden base.

Even though the wilds were slowly but surely taking it back, the ruins still retained vestiges of former splendor. They proceeded cautiously, making their way through the bramble and granite debris, always ready just incase they encountered more darkspawn.

Briar was never, ever going to forget her first encounter with the darkspawn, a rather small band -according to Alistair, she personally thought twenty of them was more like a small army- for as long as she lived. She had been able to get past their grotesque appearance and crude grunts that seemed to be their way of expressing excitement.

Excitement at killing the humans no doubt.

The way the darkspawn operated though, was like watching a very well trained unit, they didn't vocally communicate with each other, unless that's what the grunting was, but seemed to move by some unheard command.

It was unnerving.

"I think... that might be it." Alistair said, picking his way through what appeared to have been an armory, though now it was mostly a stone floor that was being overrun with weedgrass and young trees and the tumbled remains of what might have been a wall."Yeah, this is it..." He finished breaking the rotten wood, gingerly easing his hand inside the chest and felt around, frowning. "It's empty."

"Empty? How can it be empty?"

Daveth shot Jory a look, shaking his head. "Easy,someone managed to open that lock and take out the treaties."

"But who?"

Daveth was now looking past them all, his face paling beneath the flecks of blood that coated it and pointed. "Ask her."


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

If Briar had been the least bit worried with how she look, she would have considered Morrigan a rival. As it was, the raven hair and amber eyes that reminded Briar of wolves were merely pleasing to look on. Morrigan's face would have been beautiful if not for the fact that it seemed set in a permanent sneer, contempt for the outside world having been made clear from early on.

Truth be told, Briar was more concerned about where Morrigan had led them; her eyes taking in the hut that stood on a dry bit of ground in an otherwise wet and swampy land.

Beside her, Alistair was muttering under his breath; the words 'toad' and 'Apostates' the only ones she could make out.

"Mother, I've brought you visitors." Morrigan called out in her clear, commanding voice.

Morrigan's 'mother' was not what Briar had expected at all. Whereas Morrigan was statuesque and beautiful in an unconventional sense, her 'mother' looked every bit the wilder witch Daveth and Ser Jory kept claiming Morrigan was.

"I can see that, child." An old woman stepped out from the doorway of the hut, her surprisingly clear eyes taking in the four that stood uncertainly in her 'yard'. "Hmm... Much as I expected, I suppose."

"Witches, I'm tellin' you." Daveth whispered loudly, shifting from one foot to the other behind Briar. "They'll turn us into toads, they will."

Alistair wasn't twitching nervously but he wasn't relaxing either, his entire body rigid as he stared at the old woman. "Are we supposed to believe that you were expecting us?" He asked, just a trace of a laugh in his tone.

Briar merely shook her head, wondering if he was ever truly serious. She focused on the crone, taking in the matted; stringy grey hair and gaunt, lean frame. Beneath this wizened exterior, she sensed power and it made her very uncomfortable.

"You don't have to do anything, least of all believe." The crone said harshly, sneering at him contemptuously. "Seek the truth or cower from it, either way, one's a fool."

That seemed to spur Daveth into becoming vocal with his assertions that they were dealing with witches, moving to stand besides Briar. "She's a witch." He said, his head swiveling to look at her. "We shouldn't be talking to her."

"Quiet Daveth," Ser Jory scolded from behind in a low undertone. "If she's a witch, do you want to make her mad?"

"Now there's a smart boy," The witch in question said, her gaze settling on Ser Jory who suddenly found the dirt at his feet interesting. "All in all, not very important in the grand scheme of things. But... it is not I who decides, believe what you will."

"_She's mad, simply mad._" Briar thought with mild awe, wondering if this woman had any idea of what she was saying, glancing at Morrigan who simply looked bored. When she turned her attention back to the crone, she took a step back, almost letting out a scream.

The crone was directly in front of her now.

"What about you? Does your women's mind give you a different viewpoint? What do you believe?"

Briar hesitated, taken aback at being so directly asked. What did she believe about what? This crone? "I... I don't know," She said finally, her voice unsteady. "I'm not sure what I believe."

Behind her mother, Morrigan shook her head disgustedly.

"Mother' was considering that answer, her head cocked to the side thoughtfully. "Heh, a statement that possesses more wisdom than it implies." She said finally, rolling her eyes heavenward. "Be always aware, or is it oblivious?" She asked to nobody in particular before looking back to Briar. "So much about you child is uncertain, and yet... Yet I believe. Do I?" She tapped her chin with arthritic fingers. "Why yes, yes I think I do."

If not for the three men behind her, Briar would have probably stepped back at this point, wondering if the old woman was insane.

"So..." Alistair began slowly, humor still lacing his words. "This is a dreaded wilder witch?"

Briar snickered in spite of herself.

"Witch of the wilds?" The crone said in obvious disgust, drawing all attention back to herself; her heavily lined face folding in on itself as she frowned. "I suppose Morrigan must have told you that, how she adores such tales."

Morrigan looked annoyed at this, rubbing her forehead in annoyance, as if her mother was giving her an insufferable headache.

"Though, she would not admit it. Oh how she loves to dance under the moon."

All three recruits and the Warden shivered at the cackle of laughter that came from the woman.

"They did not come to listen to your wild stories, Mother." Morrigan interrupted crossly.

"True, they came for their treaties, yes?" The crone was brisk now, suddenly all business as she turned and stamped back to the hut, calling over her shoulder: "And before you begin barking, your precious seals wore off long ago."

"What the bloody hell is she doing with them?" Daveth demanded, in a low voice, his eyes never leaving the darkness that was the open doorway into the hut.

"Ask her." Briar suggested.

He grimaced.

The old woman emerged from the hut, carrying what looked to be a long, leather tube. "I have protected these." She said simply, handing the tube to Briar.

Briar studied it thoughtfully, nodding.

"You... Oh." Alistair broke off in what was likely to have been a rant, sounding a bit sheepish. "You protected them?"

"Why not? Take them to your Grey Wardens and tell them, tell them that this Blight's threat is greater than they realize."

"What do you mean?" Briar asked.

"Either the threat is more or they realize less." The woman said as if it were exceedingly simple and she were explaining it to a child.

Daveth snorted.

Now she was laughing. "Or perhaps the threat is nothing." Wild laughter. "Or perhaps they realize nothing."

This woman, Briar realized, was thoroughly insane; feeling chills breaking out all along her body, even though she was rather warm inside her suit of armor.

***

"That was the most... oddest thing, ever." Ser Jory said as they walked through the gates that led to the encampment.

"Odd doesn't begin to describe." Alistair muttered, having taken the treaties from Briar. He halted and turned to look down at her. "Why don't you go bathe, I'll give these Duncan." He suggested gently, noting how tired she looked and frowned. "Maybe have a mage look at your arm?"

A bath sounded like heaven and she smiled wearily, nodding. "Thank you."

"That way."

She followed the vague direction he had pointed in, later rather than sooner finding herself in front of a large tent with steam coming out of a hole at the top. Hesitantly, Briar looked around before approaching, nearly walking into an older women who was emerging.

"Oh dear, I'm sorry." The woman apologized, her clear blue eyes taking Briar's tired form in. "You must be here for a bath."

"I- yes."

"Come on then, this is a tent for women, the men use the stream near the Wilds, just outside the gate." The woman bustled Briar into the tent. "My name is Wynne."

"Briar." She felt the tension beginning to drain from her just from being inside the warm, humid tent; her eyes landing on several large bathing tubs.

"The newest Grey Warden recruit." Wynne nodded knowingly, beginning to fill a tub with buckets of water that rested on hot coals. "You just got back from the Korcari Wilds, did you not?"

"Yes." Briar slowly began shedding her armor, each piece feeling like it weighed several stones. Each and every part of her body ached, her forearm was beginning to sting again. Before the tub was even filled, she was sliding into it, sighing contentedly as the water eased her body. "Please, you don't have to go to any trouble for me."

"You'll be defending us against the darkspawn, the least I can do is make sure you're halfway rested." Wynne laughed dismissively, reaching down into a bucket to retrieve a soapy sponge. "Here you are."

Briar washed in silence, watching as Wynne busied herself about the tent. She took note of the robes the older woman wore, surmising she was a Circle Mage. "Are you here to fight as well?" She asked finally, just to bridge the silence. Not that the quiet was unpleasant, just after listening to her companions for hours as well as the sounds of fighting, quiet seemed... odd.

"Yes, but from the back of course. Mages usually do better from a distance."

Laughing at the humorous look on Wynne's face, Briar sank beneath the water.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

"_It's not fair, not fair, not fair!_" Briar's mind raged as she and Alistair stared down at the battle raging hundreds of feet beneath them. After all they had been through, after all _she_ had been through, for things to end this way?

The past twelve hours flashed through her mind. The Joining, poor Daveth had not survived it, dying mere seconds after drinking from the chalice. Ser Jory, panicking and dying on Duncan's blade, Duncan who had whispered '_I am sorry_' even as he took Jory's life from him.

How scared she had been as Duncan had approached her, holding out the chalice that offered only death, whether it be instantly or thirty years from now. She had drank of it and succumbed to the pain that racked her body, certain death was taking her too.

She had survived, much to her surprise, greeted to Duncan and Alistair looming over her. It had become apparent then just how deep Duncan's grief had run at Daveth and Ser Jory's deaths. The relief in his eyes when she opened hers...

He had then explained why the Joining was so secret, explaining the need to maintain that secrecy, why he had killed Jory.

She had understood, even if it hadn't eased the pain at their passing. A phrase she had heard Duncan use suddenly took on new meaning for her with this understanding.

"_At all costs, by any means necessary_."

She understood.

During King Cailan's meeting, she had listened to him and Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir argue heatedly over battle plans. Loghain was frustrated with King Cailan's constant talk of the Grey Wardens and glory.

Briar had understood that as well, knowing that while ending a Blight was the Warden's ultimate task, there was no Archdemon present and in this situation, it was the soldier's who would win the battle.

Soldier's and a well laid plan.

Which was why she and Alistair along with one of the Circle Mage's and a guard they had picked up along the way, were now at the very of of the Tower of Ishal. They had battled darkspawn and then finally an ogre to make it to the top when the pyre waited to be lit, they hadn't expected any darkspawn, having been reassured that the tower had been made safe.

They now stood side by side, hands gripping the stone ledge that ran about the outside of the tower, watching the battle rage on. It was easy enough to see that the darkspawn were winning even though by now, Loghain should have been bringing his men into the fray, turning the tide.

"_Not fair, it's not fair_!"

"My Lady!"

She whirled around in time to see the mage cut down by darkspawn arrows, her reaction slow, still in a daze. Briar could hear Alistair letting out a primal scream of rage beside her but couldn't do anything, all she could think was:

"_It's not fair_!"

***

"I see you've awakened."

Briar hadn't even opened her eyes yet, her mind stumbling over an excess of thoughts. How did she yet live? What had happened in the battle? Where was Duncan? Alistair? The voice continued talking, grating on her harshly. She recognized that voice, she just couldn't place it.

Finally, Briar cracked one eye open; the harsh yet beautiful features of a woman a few years older than her coming into focus. "You're the girl from the Wilds." She finally whispered, prying her other eye open.

"Yes, I am Morrigan."

Briar frowned, pulling herself into a sitting position and pushed away the thin blanket that covered her. She was inside what she assumed to be Morrigan and her mother's hut, it was small and every available space housed something. Nets, lures, traps, books, pots and pans. Spices and meat hung from the ceiling.

It was sweltering, the fire that was positioned in the center of the room was emanating enough heat to service two huts at least.

She realized she was wearing nothing but her underclothes, bandages running over her shoulder and across her torso. Hesitantly, she ran her fingers over the bandage, struggling to remember what had happened.

"The darkspawn, what happened to the darkspawn?" She near shouted when the recollection came slamming back into her full force. She and Alistair had lit the pyre, they had watched to see what would happen only to find themselves under immediate attack.

Darkspawn had swarmed the Tower of Ishal, surprising and then overtaking them. The last thing Briar remembered was seeing the Mage, she had never asked his name much to her regret, fall under a volley of arrows, then the arrows were almost upon her...

Morrigan considered her thoughtfully, running the tip of a finger along her bottom lip. "You were injured," She said finally. "And Mother rescued you, do you not remember?"

"I... I remember lighting the pyre," Briar began slowly, trying to piece together what had happened; her furrowed creasing in a frown. "Alistair and I were looking below, it seemed that... that the darkspawn were overcoming the King's men and then, then we were attacked. Darkspawn... One of our companions went down, I saw arrows and then... then nothing."

"Yes, it was a rather close call, but Mother managed to get you and your... friend, out of there just in time. But what is important is that you both live."

"And the King? Duncan?" Briar wasn't sure if she wanted to know, feeling like she already did and the pain in her chest was constricting; making it hard to breathe.

"The man who was to answer your call for help quit the field." Morrigan said emotionlessly, her face neutral. She didn't derive any pleasure in this but it didn't really bother her either, that much was clear. "The darkspawn won your battle. Those he abandoned were massacred."

The grief Briar had been managing to constrain was threatening to overwhelm her now. Her family had died... poor Daveth and panicking Ser Jory... King Cailan, woefully oblivious and child-like King Cailan. Duncan... steadfast and so _there_, not Duncan... She could feel the pain beginning to lap at her heart, easing itself into her and drew in a shallow breath, the last of her carefully hidden grief and guilt were finally breaking free of the walls she had built around them.

"Your friend," Morrigan said slowly, watching Briar carefully, her tone still carefully neutral as she took in the play of emotions on the other woman's face, how she struggled with her inner turmoil. "Is not taking any of this well."

Even though she already knew, deep in her heart, Briar forced herself to ask: "And the King? The other Grey Wardens?"

Morrigan was mildly impressed at how mention of the woman's companion had seemed to stiffen her, force her to shove aside her own emotions and calm herself; this was a good trait to possess. To be able to control every aspect of yourself, even those which were hardly controllable, especially in the face of such pain and adversity. "Dead, they are all dead."

Briar nodded stiffly, her jaw locked as she began the slow and mildly painful process of getting out of bed; feeling the physical pain receding as she moved to a bearable dull ache. Once more she forced aside everything else, knowing her grief could be vented in the days to come, there were no shortage of enemies to take all her pain out on.

"You companion is veering between grief and denial."

She nodded again; reaching for her tunic, her fingers brushing over the fresh needlework. It registered that the hole caused by the arrowhead had been mended, surprised to feel a surge of hot tears pricking her eyes as she fingered the delicate stitches. "Thank you, Morrigan." She whispered, her voice harsh with the emotion she was working to stifle.

"I-" Morrigan sounded unsure of herself, for the first time since Briar had met her. "You are welcome, Warden." She watched in silence as Briar stiffly managed to pull on her leather breeches, making no move to help her when she reached for her armor.

Briar simply nodded.

***

Alistair stood with his back to the hut; his hands dangling listlessly at his sides as he stared into the murky pond water. The early morning light was dull and muted, the sun never truly pierced the swamps of the Korcari Wilds, but he barely noticed anyway.

"_I should have been there_," Was all he could think, his fists balling almost painfully. He had stopped pacing maybe an hour ago, having near screamed himself hoarse as he denied Morrigan's mother's claims of what had happened, even though he knew deep down that she spoke the truth. "_I should have been with them_."

Behind him he heard the crone's grating voice: "See, you worry to much, hear is your fellow Warden."

_Briar..._ Alistair quickly turned around; his eyes raking over her to confirm that she was actually there, unharmed and alive. He didn't know her very well or the circumstances of how she had become Duncan's recruit when he had only hoped to leave Highever with Ser Gilmore but she had a connection with him. She was the only other Grey Warden in Ferelden, the only other person who could fully appreciate and emphasize with his pain, if only on a tiny scale.

"You," He whispered harshly. "You're alive. I," He let out a short laugh, there was nothing happy about it. "I thought you were dead for sure."

All Briar could do was shake her head, trying and failing to offer him a reassuring smile. Her mouth simply wouldn't curve the way she wanted it too.

Alistair didn't notice, shaking his head and brought his hands up uselessly only to drop them again. "This doesn't seem real." He said, still in a whisper, looking away from her and back to the pond. "If it weren't for Morrigan's mother, we'd be dead on top of that tower."

"Do not talk about me as if I'm not present, lad." The crone scolded gravely.

"I'm sorry." Alistair apologized, shifting to look at her, his head hanging ever so slightly. "I, I didn't mean... But, but what do we call you? You never gave us your name."

She considered it, considered them before shrugging her bony shoulders. "Names are pretty but fairly useless, especially here." She said finally. "The Chasind folk call me Flemeth, I suppose that will do."

That seemed to bring Alistair out of his despair, shock taking over his features. "The Flemeth? The Flemeth of legend?" His voice took on a hushed, awed tone. "Daveth was right."

Briar could do no more than simply listen, feeling like nothing would ever surprise her again.

"You're- you're a witch of the wilds, aren't you?" Alistair breathed.

Flemeth arched an eyebrow; her narrow face cold as she regarded the former Templar. "So I know a bit of magic," She said crossly. "It has served you and your companion well, has it not?"

Briar listened as Alistair asked why Flemeth hadn't saved Duncan, and Flemeth's answer, feeling a little better when Flemeth turned the conversation from what had happened at Ostagar to what was yet to come, to what they had to do yet.

They still had the treaties, they still were Grey Wardens, they still had a job to do.

All grief would wait. The Blight wasn't going to stop itself on account of two mortal's pain.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

That first night of the Kocari Wilds, outside of Lothering was when the nightmares began. The trio had stopped outside of the small town for the night to camp, deciding that it would be best to enter in the morning when they weren't likely to be taken as robbers.

Briar hadn't bothered in trying to put together any kind of shelter, instead waiting until Alistair had made a fire and then collapsed in front of it; not caring if her armor hurt her; cut into her flesh. She was exhausted, physically and mentally.

But sleep hadn't come right away. In a half awake state, she had begun to cry; silently. She missed her parents, more than words could ever express. She missed her mother's gentle hen picking and her father's amusement whenever his Pup had done something decidedly unfeminine.

All the grief she had been shoving aside was beginning to seep out. There was no looming task that had to be done immediately. Nobody to distract her from it, no Wynne to cheer her up with her grandmotherly observations and comments.

She even missed her sister-in-law Oriana, who had been kind if not a bit scandalized by Briar's 'wild and savage' ways. And Oren, poor little Oren…

Where was Fergus? Did he know of what had happened to their family? Did he know that she had left their father dying in his own blood with only their mother for defense? That she had allowed them to sacrifice themselves so that she could run, run like the coward she was raised not to be.

No, that wasn't true. She hadn't run like a coward. Her father was dying, there was nothing to be done for him and she knew her mother. Eleanor was, had been, a stubborn woman and there would have been no changing her mind. She had wanted to die at her husband's side, defending him, it was an honorable death.

She had run so that her family's name might live on and so she could seek vengeance on Howe.

The thought of brutally killing Rendon Howe was enough to warm the inner chill that had plagued her bones since waking in Flemeth's hut; a tired but bloodthirsty smile flickering across her face.

Envisioning his death, she finally fell asleep.

_They were all so anxious, eager, ready to march. To lay waste to the world above, their leader, their god had been awoken; ready to guide them. _

_We are ready, the collective mind shrieked, banging their swords against shields wildly, hooting with malicious glee. _

_Thousands of single beings, all connected, no individual thoughts, just the hive._

_And the singing was so beautiful. The master was calling them, urging them…_

Briar shot upright with a gasp; cursing under her breath as her stiff armor made her body protest. Ignoring Alistair's murmurs of concern and Morrigan's not so soft, snide remarks she pushed herself to her feet and began walking away from the fire, away from them.

She needed a moment's privacy.

Once she was certain that they couldn't see her, she stepped behind a tree and hunched over; her hands on her knees and closed her eyes, forcing herself to take deep, calming breaths. For a moment she thought she might be sick but the moment passed, mercifully.

"Briar?"

She should have realized that Alistair wasn't about to let her wander off alone, even if it wasn't too far from camp, not so soon after everything that had happened. The events of Ostagar were too fresh in both their minds. "I'm fine." She forced herself to keep her voice steady, a waver belying her true state.

"No," Alistair sighed, gently easing an arm around her shoulder's and helping her to straighten. "but you will be. Nightmare?"

She nodded, keeping her posture stiff.

If he noticed, he didn't comment, instead began guiding her back towards camp, slowly. "I probably should have warned you…"

Briar listened in silence as he explained –in his own way which involved humor, some funny, some not- her dream, how it hadn't been so much a dream but a glimpse into the Archdemon's mind, the hive's mind and that it was fairly common in the beginning for Grey Wardens.

Morrigan was waiting for them when they finally stepped back into the fire's light; her eyes slowly moving from one face to the other. She made an odd noise before turning her back to them, going to her own bedroll, a luxury neither Briar nor Alistair had as they had left Ostagar with nothing but the clothes on their back, their satchels, armor and weapons.

"Is there anything else I should know?" Briar asked as she eased herself back down onto her patch of grass, this time removing the breastplate.

"Besides an increased appetite?" He replied with a grin, settling down across from her and shrugged. "No, that's about it. You already know that we can sense Darkspawn when they're close, and the same applies for them. They can sense us."

"Increased appetite?" She studied his face carefully, fairly certain he was teasing her when she wasn't in the mood to be teased. "I haven't felt any hungrier lately."

"The way you scarfed down what we have had to eat…"

"A pittance!"

Alistair flashed her another of his quirky little grins.

~!~

When she woke up, Briar was… warm. Which she considered rather odd as the fire had long died out and the early morning chill was in full effect if the way Alistair was hugging himself from across the way were any indication.

Frowning, she shifted and became immediately aware to the source of her warmth. "Draven!"

Her Mabari Hound had survived Ostagar and found her… She began laughing, realizing she was also crying at the same time as she threw her arms around Draven's large neck; reveling in his wet, sloppy kisses as he expressed his own joy at their reunion.

Their moment of joy was interrupted by Morrigan's sarcastic tone: "And now we have a dog. And Alistair is _still_ the stupidest member of the party." *

"Hey!" Alistair half-whined, raising his head from his pallet in order to shoot the Apostate a dirty look before taking in Briar and Draven. "Seems like he missed you."

"I missed you as well." Briar directed to her companion, scratching him behind his short and tattered left ear, frowning as she bent forward to examine the fresh signs of battle. "It looks like we're not the only ones who left Ostagar bearing scars." She didn't bother looking at Alistair, knowing his face was probably in a pained expression.

Morrigan –who had been up for hours- huffed, rolling her eyes impatiently as the Wardens slowly began to get to their feet; ignoring the way the two exchanged looks that were no doubt regarding her. "If you are ready to get on with it, Lothering isn't far off. Unless, you'd like to delay saving Ferelden by another day or two?"

Draven just cocked his head to the side as his mistress groaned.

~!~

Briar did not want to take Morrigan into the Chantry, at all. They were all dirty, flecked with fresh blood and all of them rather… cranky. On the way in, they had met with a band of highwaymen who had made the disastrous attempt at taking a 'tax' from them.

The highwaymen would never tax anyone else again, ever.

Briar had _enjoyed_ her first glimpse of Lothering as Alistair and Morrigan bickered over where they should head to first. The village was in utter disarray. Refugees were camped out all over, the fortunate who had escaped Ostagar as well as a lot of Chasind folk.

It looked like the actual town residents had packed up and fled, save for a few poor desperate folk who likely had nowhere to run too. She couldn't even see any local militia, nothing but some Templars, in fact, they had had to pass one on their way in.

He had warned them that they wouldn't find much in Lothering, especially shelter. Not that they needed nor wanted to lodge in the village. They were simply here for information.

She was pulled from her internal debate as to how much strife Morrigan could cause if left to her own devices outside of the Chantry when the ravings of a Chasind man she had originally ignored became loud enough where ignoring them was no longer an option.

"The legions of evil are on your doorstep! They will feast upon our hearts!"

Alistair let out a soft groan when she turned towards the small cluster surrounding the raving man, his feet dragging ever so slightly as they approached the group.

"There is nowhere to run! This evil will cover the world," The man turned, halting when he came face to face with Briar; his fevered eyes searching hers frantically. "Like a plague of locusts!"

"Please," What looked to be one of the recent refugees pleaded, clasping a child against him. "You're scaring the children!" He had his hands clamped over the little girl's head, trying to mute out the noise and frightening words.

The Chasind whirled around, sparing a glance at the girl. Her quivering body seemed to spur him on. "Better to slit their throats now than let them suffer at darkspawn hands!"

Briar noted that Alistair was now standing directly at her side, something in his posture had hardened. She glanced down, watching as his hands clenched and unclenched into fists, reaching out quickly to brush her fingers against his; hoping to calm him at least a bit. Her attention was drawn back to the lunatic when a grubby, wavering finger was suddenly beneath her nose; her eyes crossing downward to watch it.

"There! One of their minions is already amongst us! This woman bears their evil stench! Can you not see the vile blackness that fills her?"

From behind, Morrigan made a derisive noise, clearly unimpressed.

Shaking her head, Briar made a dismissive gesture before glancing at the scared, frightened eyes that were focused on her. "I have no time for a madman and I suggest none of you make the time."

"Well it's true, innit? We're all going to die?" Shouted someone she couldn't see.

"If that's what you truly believe, then of course, fool." Deliberately turning her back on the crowd, she looked at her two companions. "I think we need to find whoever is in charge and find out what we can."

"Then leave, before these blubbering idiots drive us all insane." Morrigan added contemptuously.

_Still shouldn't take her in the Chantry_, Briar thought with a sigh.

And the sad part was that she was right, they had made it past the first few pews and a Templar had stopped them, aiming his question at Morrigan. "You… Miss. What is your name? You… seem quite odd to me."

Morrigan had been in her element, shooting him a look that said she plainly found him lacking in one way or another, her tone arrogant as she replied: "You would not be the first to think so, but avert your eyes. I will not have you staring overlong."

_Knew I should have left her outside._


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I know how the characters should be portrayed and yet... I can't seem to get them down. Yes, the companions are a bit OC, I'm working on that, promise!**

**CHAPTER 9**

_Lothering turned out to be a giant headache, one Briar was all too glad to leave behind at the end of the day. Inside the Chantry, they had learned from a Templar that Grey Wardens were considered to be out-laws, murderers… _

_The killers of King Cailan._

_That had crushed her, she knew it had crushed Alistair, though they both had vehemently began denying it. The Templar, Ser Byrant, had silenced them with assurances that he didn't believe the lies at all, but it didn't change the fact that a bounty had been placed on their heads._

_From there they had learned that something had occurred in Redcliffe, prompting Alistair to insist that they head to his boyhood home as soon as possible, worrying something might have befallen the Arl._

_The prompting had only gotten worst when Alistair had spotted a knight from Redcliffe, discovering that Arl Eamon was deathly ill and that his wife, the Lady Isolde had sent out the men in search, of all things, the Ashes of Andraste._

_Putting Alistair off, she had then gone to see the Revered Mother, needing a moment's peace and hoping against hope that Morrigan would keep her mouth shut. _

"_Can I help you, Child?" The woman had asked, staring up from her wooden chair as if she were a queen; her posture stiff and her gaze keen._

"_I've come to ask your blessing, Mother." _

"_Of course, and will you be making an offering to the Chantry?"_

_Briar had hesitated then, knowing they didn't have very much money. She and Alistair had pooled together their resources and found that they had had fifty silver between them. At the time, when they had dealt with the bandits on the road, she had found the idea of rifling over their corpses distasteful, but now she was wishing she had done it._

_Morrigan was going to get the chance to say 'I told you so' later, as the Witch had informed the Wardens that they would soon find 'the gold of dead men better than empty bellies and ragged shirts'._

"_What would be an appropriate tithe?" She finally had asked, glancing quickly at Alistair who had nodded reassuringly. Of course, he had been trained as a Templar, raised in a Chantry from her understanding._

"_Thirty silver."_

_They had made an offering and received a blessing. Briar had had the sacrilegious thought that she had never had such an expensive blessing before, realizing now that she had took Mother Mallol for granted. Mallol, who had been slaughtered along with the rest of the castle's occupants, who Briar had known since she was knee high to a grasshopper, who had insisted on being called simply Mallol…_

_Their pockets thirty silver lighter, they had made their way to the bar after that. Which is where Briar's headache had kicked into overdrive…_

"Now isn't this the same person we've been asking about, by description no less, and everyone has been denying seeing the lass?"

Briar stared at the small group of soldier's that had accosted her and her companions within moments of stepping into Dane's Refuge, a bar and inn, recognizing the crest they wore to be Loghain's.

"All Grey Warden's have been declared traitors, and murderer's of good King Cailan."

"That's a bloody lie!" Alistair growled from clenched teeth; one hand straying to the hilt of his sword as he moved to stand besides Briar.

Morrigan remained silent, folding her arms over her chest; amber eyes narrowed in contempt.

"King Cailan died due to Teryn Loghain quitting the field." She was fairly certain her voice would break, pleased and surprised to find out that it did not, it also had sounded cool and collected.

"There's a price on your head, though I think I'll cut out your lying tongue first…" The solider, who was obviously in command, said slowly, glaring at her.

"Sers, perhaps we can settle this peacefully, without bloodshed?"

Briar arched one eyebrow when a redheaded Chantry sister seemingly stepped out of nowhere and in between the two parties, wondering if the woman was daft. "Sister, please, get out of the way." She said, with forced politeness.

The woman turned towards her, large; imploring blue eyes burning into Briar's. "There has been enough death as of late, surely we don't need to witness anymore?"

"Those Warden's are traitors to the crown!"

Alistair was already drawing his sword, Briar following suit and sliding her Dar'Misu's from their sheaths on her back. From behind them, they could both hear the crackle of Morrigan casting some sort of protective shield around herself.

If she had been expecting the Sister to step aside once the fighting had commenced, Briar was sorely mistaken. With a skill she had never seen in a Sister nor expected from one, the woman disarmed a soldier almost instantly with her bare hands; catching his falling sword and was aiming it at his throat before he could blink.

He dropped to his knees.

The fight was over in minutes, with two casualties and the remaining three all weaponless with their hands up in the universal 'I surrender' pose.

"Please, Warden, we're just doing our jobs!" The captain pleaded, apparently forgetting that only moments ago he had been threatening to cut out her lying tongue. "Loghain-"

Alistair took a menacing step forward; his usually cheerful and slightly oblivious expression replaced with one that was… filled with wrath.

"Send them back to Denerim." The sister said gently, reaching out as if she would place a hand on Briar's shoulder only to think twice and lower it back to her side; though her face was still beseeching, the musical lilt in her obviously Orlesian accented voice pleading as well. "They are defeated, surely don't you need to kill them?"

"And have them run back to Loghain? To tell him of where we are?" Briar had already steeled herself for what she knew was to be the only outcome of this, her own tone sharply contrasting against the other woman's. "No."

"Then you-" The Sister nodded, sadness filling her eyes though she resolutely turned and began speaking softly, administering last rites. When she was finished, she stepped back and turned her head; flinching when a spray of blood streaked her hair; clenching her eyes shut.

~!~

"Tis most fortunate this is only a superficial wound."

Of all people to be tending to a wound, Briar was certain Morrigan was not on her top ten list, the Witch still… made her feel nervous, which made her automatically want to wrap her fingers around the hilt of the Cousland sword.

They had made camp on the outskirts of Lothering –after dispatching more bandits- near a pond, only to find they had made camp a bit too close to a den of rather large, ferocious bears. While they had successfully slain all the beasts, she had taken a claw to the back.

Where she couldn't reach to tend it herself. She certainly wasn't Alistair to help her, he was off gathering firewood anyways –though she suspected he was having a 'personal' moment. Nor was she allowing their newest addition to tend her wounds either, if he would have.

Sten of the Beresaad had been imprisoned and left to die because he had murdered a family of farmers, right down to their children. One child had escaped and fled, searching for help and when the soldiers had arrived at the farm hold, Sten had still been waiting, accepting his fate in silence.

He didn't deny doing it, but he did not explain himself either.

After a conversation with the Chantry sister, Leliana, Briar had found herself needing fresh air. The woman claimed that the Maker had sent her a vision, and she was to join the Wardens on their quest.

Briar's faith in the Maker seemed to be deteriorating by the day, she had refused the obviously somewhat insane woman's request.

Much to Alistair and apparently Morrigan's relief.

Sten, they had found in a cage, waiting to die.

She had only spoken with him for maybe five minutes before setting off to get permission from the Revered Mother to have him released into her care. Sten had accepted her proposal that he join their cause in ending the Blight, seeking his atonement in the service.

When Morrigan realized that her charge wasn't paying any attention, she jabbed a finger against the healing poultice she had secured against the slight wounds. "I said, tis-"

"Thank you, Morrigan." Briar had snapped out of her thoughts quickly, not wanting to be poked again. "How bad was it?"

"Any deeper and we would have had to seek out a true Healer."

Heaving a sigh of relief, she pushed herself up onto her feet and pulled her tunic back over her head while turning to nod at the Witch. "Thank you."

"That tis the second time you've expressed gratitude, Warden."

"I wasn't sure you heard the first, since you were busy prodding me."

Morrigan's lips twitched.

~!~

"The hell if you are!"

Alistair looked around bewilderedly, looking for someone to share his confusion with but Morrigan was watching the display from hooded eyes while Sten seemed impassive, watching as Briar literally screamed in the face of Leliana. Draven was hanging back as well, his tongue lolling out of his mouth; ears cocked forward.

"I'm coming with you, Warden." Leliana said simply, having changed her Chantry robes for something more practical for life on the roads, leather amour, a complete set; though she kept her helmet tucked under her arm which left her short cut red hair free. "You will need all the help you can get."

"What is it with insane people wanting to follow me around?" Briar demanded, throwing her head back so the words were directed skyward; her hands wrapping around an invisible neck and wringing it.

Leliana giggled while Morrigan just arched an eyebrow, Sten remained stoic.

"He-ey," Alistair whined, staring at his fellow Grey Warden; lower lip jutted out in a pout. "I'm not insane."

"Merely an imbecile." Morrigan said in her favorite sneering tone.

"Alright..." Briar finally sighed, groaning when she was suddenly attacked in what could only be called an overly exuberant hug.


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 10**

"_Auntie, come get me!"_

_Briar laughed as Oren's gleeful shouts bounced off the stoned walls of the outer hall, making sure she stomped towards him. "I'm coming for you, my little bear!" She growled, making claws of her hands and raising them._

_Giggling madly, he began to run._

"_I'm coming to get you, Oren!"_

_He ran faster, his high pitched giggles almost mocking her as she also began running to keep up._

"_Oren, come back!"_

"_Come back! Come back! Come back!" Her own voice was mocking her now, rebounding back at her in a fury of echoes._

_All pretenses of play gone, Briar was running at full speed, all but screaming for Oren._

_She couldn't remember the hall being this long, surely it had to come to an end soon. As soon as she had thought it, the wall suddenly appeared. So did Oren, who was clinging to the wall tightly._

_Try as she might, Briar couldn't slow down, screaming for Oren to get out of the way._

_Instead he stood there, still smiling though there was something decidedly demonic about his smile._

"_Oren!" She was gaining speed, her legs screaming for her to stop; her muscles burning in protest._

_Oren was growing, and changing… into something fiery, and terrifying, and…_

"_OREN!"_

**~!~ **

"Should we wake her?"

Alistair glanced back over his shoulder, frowning slightly at the sight of Leliana standing behind him. "No." He said curtly, having a feeling Briar wouldn't appreciate the strange woman waking her up, or seeing her in a moment of weakness.

Or at least, he was assuming she wouldn't.

Truth be told, he still didn't know very much about Briar. But then again, he had also been so wrapped up in his own personal grief over the loss of their fellow Wardens, and Duncan, that he hadn't really tried to get to know his Sister in arms.

He had left everything so far up to her –which he probably would have done anyway as he preferred to follow-, not really caring what they did so long as it pertained to stopping the Blight.

When another, less intelligible scream came from Briar's tent, he pushed himself to his feet and waved Leliana away. "Go back to sleep," He murmured. "I'll take care of her."

"No," Leliana shook her head gently, taking his seat before the fire and reached out to pick up his discarded stick, coaxing the flames back to life. "I'll take the next watch. You look tired as well." Her Orlesian accent was soft, soothing.

Nodding, he approached the tent –new additions to their little camp, as they had gone from four to six in the course of a day, Briar had insisted. He halted when he spotted Draven lying on the ground, right at the tent's flap. "It's just me."

Draven whined, turning his head towards the tent.

"I know boy," Alistair crouched down, reaching out to scratch the Mabari behind his ears. "I hear her too."

Another whine.

"I'm going, I'm going." Taking a deep breath, Alistair pushed aside the flap and poked his head in, instantly spotting Briar.

It was hard not to, she was sitting upright. Light from the fire cast shadows in the tent but he could still see the way she sat hunched over; her face buried in the blanket between her knees; the way her upper body was shaking.

"Briar?"

Her head snapped up, it took her a moment to focus on him as she quickly wiped tears away from her face. "Alistair? Is everything alright?" Though it came out calm, her voice was still thick from her tears; bordering hoarse from the screaming.

He hesitated. "Uh… ye-es…"

Her mouth turned down into a frown that he couldn't see but damned if he couldn't feel it. Cursing his armor, he pulled himself into the tent and landed in a heap; grunting as metal bit into his skin. Sorting himself out quickly, he moved into a sitting position, knowing he was being very forward right now –being in her tent and all- and wondered how best to approach this.

"Are you alright?" She asked, her tone changing from worried to kindly.

It took him a moment to realize that she thought there was something wrong with him. "Maker's breath, woman…" This wasn't going well, not at all. He had no idea how to comfort someone, let alone her. He didn't even know if she needed comfort, maybe she had been having a simple nightmare. A darkspawn filled nightmare.

That was wrong and he knew it, but he clung to the hope anyway.

"I came in here to check on you, actually." He said finally, realizing she had been waiting on him to finish his exclamation. "You were, um, having a nightmare."

"Oh."

It quickly became apparent that she wasn't about to share it with him, if anything, she seemed to be pulling into herself; regrouping as it were. "Briar, I know that… I've been… quiet, and maybe sullen, these past few days-"

"Do you want to talk about it?" She interrupted. "About Duncan, I mean."

"What? No, no, you don't have to do that." How had this been turned around on him? He had come in here to speak of her, to comfort her from whatever was troubling her. "I-" The pain that was still so fresh, that he had been trying to keep in check and buried, was creeping upon him and he heard his voice break.

She remained silent.

"I just, keep thinking that if I'd of been there, then somehow, I might've been able to…"

"Save him." Briar finished in a whisper.

"Exactly."

Silence reigned for a few moments, punctuated by only the wind rustling against the tent.

Growing steadily more uncomfortable as the seconds passed, Alistair finally had to break the quiet. "I think after all this is over, I'll go to Highever, that's where Duncan said he was from."

Briar's throat closed even tighter.

"Hold a funeral for him…"

_If we survive._

"Maybe I'll go with you."

"I think he'd like that."

"He was a good man."

"Yes." Alistair felt a bit better on his own end but also like a dolt. He had completely allowed her to deflect his own attempt at comforting her, as awkward as that was. "Here I am, going on about Duncan and… and being a complete ass these past few days, without even thinking of you. Have you…, have you ever lost someone?"

She drew in a sharp breath, the hole completely closed, strangling her.

"I'm sorry." That feeling of being a dolt increased tenfold. "I didn't mean to upset you-"

"You know my surname?" She finally asked, speaking in an almost tinny voice.

"Yes." He almost added 'my Lady', but didn't. Titles meant nothing to Grey Wardens and he wasn't entirely sure if she had joined the ranks willingly or been conscripted. If it were the latter, he figured addressing her as 'Lady Cousland' would have been rubbing salt in the wound.

"Duncan had come to Highever in search of recruits, he was interested in Ser Gilmore, a… knight I had grown up with, trained with." Her tone wavered but never faltered. "I wanted to go with my father so badly, to go to Ostagar and fight with him, but he wouldn't allow it. Then I found out a Grey Warden was in the castle and… And it was like all my dreams were coming true, I had read everything I could about the Order, listened to the bards, dreamt of joining."

He could relate to that, keeping silent however.

"The night my father was supposed to leave, we were attacked. Fergus had already left with some of our men for Ostagar, Father would be leaving in the morning with Rendon Howe."

Alistair wished he could see her face, leaning forward slightly.

"Howe and Father fought together before, during the rebellion against Orlais, they were best friends. That night, Howe's men attacked. Nobody was safe, not even my brother 's wife, Oriana, and their son… my nephew, Oren."

That was the name she had screamed out, now he knew what her nightmares had been about and felt his heart twisting painfully for her.

"Long story short, I am the only survivor of that night, as far as I know. Duncan helped me escape." The walls she had erected between her and everyone else were beginning to go back up, her voice taking on its usual clipped tone. "It is late, Alistair. Who is on watch?"

"Leliana."

"Oh bloody hell…"

**~!~ **

Alistair knew he played stupid quite well, a habit he had made into a talent at the Chantry. Stupid people weren't noticed, much, which is what he was supposed to be. Unnoticed, invisible; he had picked all that up quickly.

He had also made it a habit to use humor to deflect attention aimed his way, it was a defensive mechanism that was now very much a part of him.

When Duncan had recruited him, he had been very surprised. He had expected the Grey Warden to overlook him, but… he hadn't.

No longer was he hidden in the shadows, he had a place and a purpose with the Grey Wardens, with his brothers –brothers who had died in the field at Ostagar. That place and purpose seemed to have been destroyed after the events at Ostagar, even following Briar around on some half-cocked plan to gather an army, seek out their allies hadn't seemed all that important.

It had seemed unobtainable.

Locked inside himself with his grief, he had followed and she had led. He had risen out of it for brief moments, to help her the first night the tainted nightmares came; to argue with Morrigan. But it was all over quickly and he had retreated right back into himself, ready to answer a question or look with a half smile and a joke.

That time would have to be over.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** It has literally been forever since I wrote anything on this and I will blame DA2 for it, well... most of the blame can fall on DA2, there may have been some Fallout issues as well. I own nothing, Bioware does, and any lines you recognize are taken from the game.

**CHAPTER 11**

"So, you said the Maker, um, sent you a vision?"

Leliana had been more than aware when the Warden had fallen into step behind her, and she had also been expecting this. Expectation didn't keep a grimace from crossing her face. "I knew you would want to talk about this."

Briar nodded at Alistair when he glanced at them, purposefully letting everyone take a bit of a lead, giving her and Leliana a semblance of privacy. "Well, you understand how it sounds."

"Like heresy."

"I was going for-"

"Insane." Morrigan tossed over her shoulder.

Leliana's cheeks flushed though she also seemed very determined. "I had a dream."

All Briar could do was listen to Leliana's description of her dream and the interpretation. "You dreamt of the Blight?" She finally surmised, making her statement more of a question.

Leliana gave this some thought, her head tilting to the side. "I think so, yes."

"The Chantry says the Maker has abandoned us."

"No, I can't believe that." She shook her head forcefully, halting in her tracks. "There is too much beauty, too much good, left in this world. He is still here. I feel Him in the wind against my face and I feel Him in the rays from the sun warming my body, He is still here. I know what the Chantry says about the Maker and just what should I believe? What I feel in my heart or what others tell me?"

"Believe what feels right to you, Leliana."

Leliana smiled, her eyes straying heavenward for the briefest of moments. "Thank you."

As Briar had no idea if Leliana was actually speaking to her or to… someone else, she remained silent.

~!~

"Why are we stopping?" Sten demanded the first night away from Lothering when Briar called for a halt, watching out of his pale lavender eyes as she began pitching in to help set up camp.

She didn't turn to face him, busy unrolling her tent. "To rest."

"We have a Blight to end."

"We can't fight if we're dead on our feet, Qunari." She said curtly, getting that he wouldn't be letting this drop and stood up, turning to stare at him, planting her hands on her hips. "Let's get a few things straight, shall we?"

He arched a white eyebrow down at her.

"It is not your job to handle the Blight."

"No, it is yours and you are chatting with me instead."

Her face turned red, her lips compressing into a grim, thin line. "Yes, I am chatting with you instead. You are here to help us, not offer opinion, comment or tell me off. Understand?"

The look he gave her said more than what words ever could.

Briar watched as he walked away, looking down at her fists, unclenching them.

~!~

Waking up from nightmares, or visions as Alistair referred to them, became a regular occurrence for Briar. He had told her as time went on, under normal circumstances, the nightmares would fade. Since they were facing a Blight however, she was stuck with them.

They did a lot of walking, more walking than she could ever remember doing in her life. It was slow, especially with the added addition of a dwarf they had rescued in Lothering, Bodahn who was a merchant, and his addled son Sandal. Addled but sweet, and dead useful, he could enchant things. That was a very nifty little trick he had picked up and Briar had wasted no time in learning just what his talents allowed him to do.

They would stray ahead of the wagon Bodahn and his son brought with them, filled with goods they scavenged from abandoned houses and other places. Sten, while a literal giant, was surprisingly quiet on his feet. It was no surprise that Leliana –or Princess Stabbity Stab as Alistair called the lay sister when it was just them- was also quiet. Morrigan seemed to come and go, fading in and out of the scenery as she desired.

Draven could be quiet, when he chose too, but most of the time he preferred to lope alongside Alistair, who was… not as silent as the rest of them. He could move around easily in his armor, but not without making noise. It was something Morrigan liked to snark at him for, much to Briar's annoyance. Once the witch got going, with Alistair's sarcastic encouragement, it could become difficult to shut her up.

She had made sure –multiple times, much to Bodahn's barely concealed annoyance- that he knew they were heading for Redcliffe, in case they wandered too far and did not return to him. Every time, he would assure her he knew his way and then send her along, or try to convince her to buy something she didn't need. Briar figured he was doing that to annoy her since she was getting so good at bothering him.

Truth be told, while surrounded by people, or in Sten's case: Qunari, she felt alone. Giving orders and leading came naturally to her, but it was a lonely burden to shoulder alone. She missed her family and it seemed to get worse with each step they took. The only distractions were when she was too busy to think or when they fought the occasional darkspawn or idiot bandits. Those were becoming her favorite times, when she could vent all her negative emotions into battle. Every kill she made, she pictured it to be Rendon Howe. Sometimes that helped, affording her a small measure of satisfaction in knowing that one day, it truly would be that traitorous bastard she was gutting. Other times, it only seemed to make things worse, knowing that this was a poor fantasy and that she was no nearer avenging her family than she was ending the Blight.

Mercifully, Alistair was coming out of his own grief, though that also meant he began speaking a lot more. If she thought Morrigan could be obnoxious with her snarky remarks or Leliana's never ending prattle was bad enough, Alistair proved her wrong. Most of the time, she didn't mind. He was charming and in an idiotic sort of way, rather funny. But even while making a very stupid remark and then laughing at his own self, she could see the pain in his eyes that he was still overcoming. It was that pain that usually made her retreat from him, it made her intensely dislike him. Why the hell should he be hiding his pain? He wasn't the one who had to hold things together, she was. At least one of them should be allowed the privilege of total grief.

~!~

"What exactly can a templar do?"

Alistair looked at Briar, his attention drawn away from the congealed mess of what she had termed 'stew' on his tin plate. Happy for the distraction (she could fight well but her cooking was worse than even his), he set aside the plate and shifted until he was facing her. He began detailing what templars were trained for, distracted only when she actually began eating her own plate of heated death. Swallowing down the urge to knock the fork from her hand, he continued.

"Of course, templars hunt mages and because of this, we train in talents that will drain their mana and disrupt spells."

Briar began spitting the food out of her mouth, right into the fire they were sitting next too. "That is bloody disgusting!" She next emptied the rest of her plate, feeding the flames. "None of you couldn't have told me I can't cook worth a damn?" She demanded, looking at him and then to Leliana, who's own plate was suspiciously clean.

Leliana smiled mischeieveously. "And let you miss out on the delights of your stew? Certainly not."

"Sten, did you-" Briar groaned when she spotted him prodding the mass on his own plate with the tip of his finger, frowning when it actually quivered. Stew was not meant to quiver. "Brilliant."

Relieved that he no longer had to worry about both hurting her feelings and gluing his innards shut, Alistair threw his own food into the fire, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically because she was now glaring at him. Um… where were we?"

"Templars."

"Right."

"Could others learn how those talents you were mentioning? To drain mana and interrupt spell casting?"

He considered that, studying her thoughtfully. "Maybe, though… the Chantry keeps tight reign on its templars. They're given lyrium to help develop those talents and sadly, it also means that we –templars I mean- become addicted to the stuff." He nodded when her eyes widened in shock, knowing not very many people outside the situation knew the truth of it. "The Chantry also controls the lyrium trade with the dwarves."

Briar pieced what he was now telling her together rather quickly, shock turning to disgust. "Were you addicted to lyrium?" She asked after a quiet, reflective moment, studying him intently.

He shook his head, seeing the relief dawning in her cobalt eyes, the firelight reflecting in them. "Templars only start receiving lyrium once they've taken their vows and I was lucky enough to have been recruited into the Grey Wardens before that happened. I am lyrium free. Now… just between you and me, I will admit to being a cheese addict."

It took her several moments to realize he was teasing her, possibly. Or he could be telling the truth, either way, that boyish grin was on his face and his eyes were glittering with amusement. "You are so strange."

"I know."

~!~

It was when they had neared the outskirts of Redcliffe that Briar truly got her first surprise from Alistair. She stood at the top of the cliff, staring down at the windmill and bridge that led to the town when he came up to stand by her side.

"Can we talk for a moment?" He asked, sounding genuinely nervous. When she looked at him, he couldn't even managed a nervous smile. Apparently the fact that he looked so serious had some sort of effect on her because she was now giving him her full attention, hands clasped loosely behind her back. "I need to tell you something. I, ah… probably should have told you earlier."

Briar felt her concern turning to something else, frowning slightly. "Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like this one bit?"

"I doubt it, I've never liked it, that's for sure."

Her frown deepened. "Alistair…"

"Um, how do I tell you this…" He looked down at the dirt, half expecting the answer to be spelled out there before sighing and looking back into her pale face. "Did I ever say how I know Arl Eamon, exactly?"

"I believe you said he raised you."

"I'm a bastard." Alistair blurted out, with a lot less finesse then he had planned. He continued with the blurting, unable to stop himself. He hadn't wanted to tell her, he rather liked her not knowing who he truly was, but he couldn't just not tell her either. Not with them about to go before the Arl. When he was finished, he watched her, taking in her dropped jaw and waited for the explosion, already cringing away.

He was not prepared for it when Briar actually doubled over laughing. He couldn't tell if it was hysterical laughter or 'he must be joking' laughter. Nervously, he joined in, stopping after a few false chuckles.

When Briar straightened, she had to wipe tears from her eyes, smiling crookedly up at him. "So, you're not just a bastard, but a royal bastard? Is that what you're telling me?"

That brought a genuine smile to his own face, feeling relief coursing through him that she was apparently taking this so well. "I'll have to use that line now, but yes. That is exactly what I'm telling you."

The mirth faded as realization began setting in. "Oh Maker's balls… you know what this means don't you?"

"I know what it means. It means absolutely nothing." He was starting to get panicky again, not liking the look on her face one bit. "I was told from day one that I was to never sit on the throne and that is just fine with me, I don't want the blasted thing. Briar, nobody outside of Duncan knew this, please, please don't say anything to anyone."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Do you think Cailan knew?"

"Maybe, who knows? The point is, it was always meant to be him there, not me, and nothing's changed."

"A lot has changed."

"Look, the only reason I'm telling you is because now I have no choice. I didn't _want_ you to know, ever, if I could help it." He felt a tad guilty at the hurt that flickered through her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"You're heir to the throne now, Alistair."

"No, no, no. A thousand times, no. Let's just move on from this and I can pretend that you still think I'm some sorry sod who was too lucky to die with the rest of the Grey Wardens."

Knowing now was not the time to pursue this, Briar mockingly bowed, keeping her eyes trained on him and smiled wickedly at the appalled look on his face. "As you command, my prince."

He walked away from her, muttering under his breath.


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER 12**

* * *

Briar knelt in front of Mother Hannah, her eyes closed as she clasped her hands before her, praying silently under her breath. The Chantry of Redcliffe had been full of people when they had arrived, hurrying after being told strange tidings by a young man they had met on the bridge.

Inside, they had met with Bann Teagan, Arl Eamon's younger brother. He had explained the situation, him and Alistair sharing a brief moment of reunion before the situation set in.

Dead things were walking the castle of Redcliffe and terrorizing its villagers during the night. So far they had managed to stand against these creatures, but the odds were truly stacked against them, or had been. The local militia were a group of ragtag men and few soldiers, all suffering from the knowledge that they would likely die tonight.

After making the decision to remain and help the villagers –a decision that was not met with approval all the way around, Morrigan had been openly derisive about it and Sten had questioned why they should- she had sent them all on respective jobs. Morrigan she simply wanted out of the Chantry because Morrigan had the potential to cause way too much trouble inside of one.

She had also sought a moment's peace and had felt a rush of gratitude when Mother Hannah had politely asked everyone to leave her small solar, giving them a modicum of privacy.

After her murmured prayer, Briar looked up into the weary but kind face of the Mother, unable to keep tears from brimming in her eyes. If this had been Mallol, she would have confessed her heart and laid out all her burdens and sorrows, but this was not. This was a woman who had the weight of a village bearing her down and did not need one more burden added to that. "I wish to receive your blessing, Mother." She whispered.

Mother Hannah nodded, her eyebrows drawing together in a slight frown. "Is there something you would like to confide in me, child?" She asked gently.

For a brief moment, she was tempted too, sorely tempted too but Briar managed to shake her head no, blinking back anymore tears before they could spill. "No, Mother."

"Blessed art thou who exists in the Maker's sight. Blessed art thou who seeks His forgiveness. Blesses art thou who seeks his return. Blessed is the Prophetess, His daughter, sacrificed to the holy flame. May the Chant reach the Maker's ears and tell Him of our contrition." When she had finished, Mother Hannah laid a hand on top of the kneeling young woman's head. "These sorrows do not have to be yours alone to carry, child. Remember that."

Briar didn't move, not even after she heard the Mother walk out the open doorway, just remained where she was. Honestly, she was too tired to get up, physically, mentally and spiritually. Her greaves were digging into her flesh but she didn't mind the pain, her eyes opening to stare at the amour. Her father had had it made specifically for her and ever since leaving Cousland castle, it had seen more than its fair share of battle. Where it had once been smooth and brilliant in its cobalt blue color, now it was dented with scratches she couldn't rub away. The brilliant blue was fading, and she smiled humorlessly, wondering what Father would have said if he could see his Pup now.

"Lady Cousland?"

Pushing herself to her feet, rather reluctantly, Briar turned with a smile plastered on her face to Bann Teagan. "Please, call me Briar. I am no longer Lady Cousland." She said politely, feeling a familiar twinge of grief over that fact.

It must have shown because he returned her smile, his infinitely more honest and sympathetic. "Perhaps as a Grey Warden you are no longer able to inherit a title, but a Lady and Cousland you still are."

That had to be one of the nicest things someone had said to her since that fateful night in Highever, and the tears she had managed to stifle for Mother Hannah reemerged and she decided that her monthly must be approaching since she was so emotional today. "Thank you, my lo-"

"No, don't call me that. We are equals, are we not?" Teagan's smile grew awkward. "Besides, with everything going on, relying on old formalities seems a bit stupid."

"It does." She agreed, hesitating when he took a cautious step forward. She held perfectly still as he reached out to wipe away a tear with the pad of his thumb, seeing his frown.

"I realize that our chances of surviving the night seem slim, but surely they are not quite that bad." He murmured, pulling his hand away. "I saw that you hadn't gone out with the others and wished to speak with you."

"Oh?"

"I wished to convey my condolences over the loss of your family. Your mother and father will be missed."

"Thank you, Bann-" She stopped when he shook his head, hesitating. "Teagan, thank you."

* * *

Briar listened as Bann Teagan gave the victory speech the following morning, secretly wishing he would shut the hell up so they could go get some rest before heading up to the castle. She knew the villagers needed to hear these words but she did not. She had lived it, fought it and was ready to move on.

"I thank you, dear lady. Truly, the Maker smiled on us when he sent you here in our darkest hour."

It took her a moment to realize that Teagan was addressing her, smiling her brightest smile and took stock of the assembled people. "There is still much more to do, Bann Teagan." She announced, seeing uncertainty flashing across faces. So much for reassuring.

"Surely these people deserve some small celebration, yes? There is time for that yet."

She buried a groan. A celebration? And one she would probably have to attend? Maker's balls. Fortunately, Mother Hannah took over with a prayer of thanks and everyone fell silent, intoning at the proper moments. Even Morrigan bowed her head, though Briar wasn't entirely sure if it was out of respect or because she was sleeping on her feet.

Once it was over and the celebration got underway, she led the others up towards the bluffs, knowing they would find no rest in Redcliffe and rest was something they all needed much more than…

"I'm going to stay." Leliana said, halting and raised her hands up in a supplicating manner. "It is good to celebrate the things we are able and I do not think I can sleep."

"If that is your wish, to mingle with these sheep then be off with you." Morrigan waved her staff dismissively, turning her back on the group and continued on.

"Such a charming woman." Alistair muttered, glancing down at Briar. "Shall we go?"

Briar turned her attention back to Leliana, somehow not surprised to find the sister already heading back down to the town square. There was something… off, about her, and not just the insanity thing either. Eventually, she was going to have to have a talk with the woman but not today. She planned on spending a few hours sleeping and then going to kill whatever else she had to in order to get to the Arl.

* * *

It felt odd to be traveling without a retinue.

After making their way through Redcliffe castle and dealing with more of those walking corpses, they were greeted to a very possessed Connor and never before had Briar felt the urge to do a woman harm such as she did then towards the Arlessa. The woman's sheer stupidity had been the cause for everything that had transpired and the only reason Briar didn't harm Isolde was for the simple fact that the dimwitted Orlesian had done it out of love for her son.

They had been presented with limited options. The quickest and most decidedly effective route would have been to kill Connor; he was an abomination now after all. Even Alistair had admitted to it, both the route and the abomination bit. But he was still a little boy and to be honest, Briar wasn't entirely sure if she was seeing an abomination or if he was simply possessed. He had come out of 'it' after a moment, confused and scared, and when she had been the responsibility of deciding his fate, the memory of his frightened eyes as he took in the scene was what had decided it for her.

She had left behind Sten, Morrigan and Leliana while she and Alistair (along with Draven of course) had headed for the Circle of Magi. This was killing two birds with one stone as they also held treaties demanding aid from the Circle in the upcoming Blight.

She figured if things got out of hand at the castle, Sten would do the right thing and had instructed him if necessary, and as a last resort, to kill Connor. She had stressed that this measure was only to be taken if the loss of the boy's life would prevent the loss of many others. Sten had given her one of his searching, inscrutable looks before simply nodding.

There was no way she would ever ask that of Leliana. Princess Stabbity Stab might be keen with blades and a bow, but she also had a moral streak. Morrigan was morally ambivalent and could have gone either way. She figured Sten had been her best bet.

After walking all day, they had finally reached lake Calenhad, where they then had to persuade the obnoxious Templar manning the dock to ferry them across, something he had belligerently refused to do until Briar had figured introducing him with the either the sharp end of the Cousland sword or Draven's teeth was in order. The templar had been much more interested in showing them some courtesy after that.

Briar discovered she hated boats, with a passion. More particularly, she hated being in a boat, in the middle of water. Give her land beneath her boots any day. "How long does this take?" She demanded, gripping the edge of the wooden seat she was perched on, her eyes closed.

"An hour or two." Alistair felt no such unease, lounging as comfortably as he could beside her, smiling when the templar arched an eyebrow at him. "Looks to be hard working, rowing."

"You could always pick up an oar and help."

"And take away your satisfaction at knowing you did a job well? Perish the thought."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

_A delicate situation… there was __**nothing**__ delicate about this situation_, Briar thought angrily. They had come to the Circle of Magi to seek help for Connor and allies for the war against the Blight, and instead… instead they found the tower had apparently been overrun with abominations and demons.

"Maker, I am _tired_." She groused, leaning against a patch of the stone wall that wasn't smeared in bodily fluids, dagger and sword hanging from her limp hands precariously.

Knight-Commander Greagoir had gotten as many of his templars out as he could, leaving behind mages and whatever templars hadn't reached the doors in time. Brave man, that Greagoir.

The bastard had also sent word to Denerim, requesting not only reinforcements but also the Right of Annulment. He wanted to destroy everything in the tower, including _her_ mages. The mages she _needed_.

So she had made a deal.

Alistair spared her a quick glance before looking around, making sure they were in no immediate danger before somewhat relaxing. Though he was not foolish enough to lower the point of his sword. "Briar?"

They had been travelling nonstop it seemed. The last time she could recall resting was after the fight in Redcliffe, and that for only a few hours. After clearing out the main floor of the Arl's castle, they had set off almost immediately to seek for a way to save Connor.

"Don't mind me… I just… give me a moment, Alistair, please."

Alistair nodded, realizing she was having one of her very rare _moments_. They had made their way through the majority of the bottom floor of the tower, each step worse than the last. The bodies of both mages and templars alike had littered the floor.

He supposed he should have been angry with her, very angry. She had put them both in a situation they were highly unlikely to survive. Greagoir had permitted them into the tower to clear it out and hunt for survivors but he had had one condition.

They would not be permitted to leave unless they had the First Enchanter with them, a _not possessed or abomination_ First Enchanter. If they didn't have him, they would remain in the tower until the Right of Annulment had come through and then they would be razed along with everyone, and everything, else.

Briar had agreed to this, against his better judgment. Granted, he didn't often state a firm opinion on much, but considering he had been trained as a templar initiate… he felt the same as Greagoir did, the chances of anyone surviving were slim to none and it was a risk that shouldn't be taken.

"What do you think we'll find up there?" She asked quietly.

He snapped out of his reverie, frowning at her. She was… afraid, he didn't blame her. "Demons. Abominations. Maker only knows."

"You know how to handle these creatures, yes?"

"Er… a bit." He wished he hadn't said that when he seen panic flash through her eyes. She had faced darkspawn, walking corpses and shades, this wasn't too much different… "Briar?"

"Seeing what that _thing_ in Connor did… to all those people, and knowing we're about to walk into _more_ of them… it's disconcerting." She admitted, managing a small smile when Draven nudged his head against her thigh.

"I would have said it's bowel loosening terror but disconcerting works just as well." She laughed, actually laughed, and Alistair found himself laughing as well. "Well, shall we then?"

"If I said lead the way, would you?"

"I suppose… if this is you trying to make me feel more manly, it's working you know."

"Good, my evil plans are going accordingly."

Rolling his eyes, he pushed open the wooden doors in front of them.

"What the bloody hell is _that_?" Briar demanded the moment they entered the next room, her blue eyes widening as they fastened on a scorching, literally scorching, demon that seemed to swim towards a group of mages.

"Demon!" Alistair took a step forward, hesitating when a mage stepped forward, staff firmly in hand. He recognized her from Ostagar, trying to place her name but couldn't. She sent the demon back to its hell and whirled on them, causing him to bring his sword right back up. "Wha-"

"Grey Warden or not, I will strike you down where you stand!"

"Wynne!"

That was her name, Wynne.

Briar took a step forward, relief evident on her face. "Wynne, I thought you died at Ostagar… what… what are you doing here?"

Wynne fixed her with a stern look. "I am a circle mage, this is where I belong. Why are _you_ here? The templars would not let anyone in."

"I need help, for a child in Redcliffe as well as aid for the Blight." Briar sheathed her sword, frowning.

"As you can see, the Circle is in no shape to help you, Warden." Wynne's defensive posture slumped, worry marring her still lovely, kind face. "Why were you let in? Are you the ones sent to clean out the tower?"

"No, Wynne, and they have not received reinforcements nor been granted the Right of Annulment yet." Briar said gently, her own fears pushed aside, her 'Walls' firmly back where they belonged, upright, her gaze roaming the children present. "We will help you take back the tower though the only way any of us will get out is if we have your First Enchanter."

"Well… then we'll have to go save him."

_If he still lives._


End file.
